The Man Who Knew Almost Nothing
by Aeryn Alexander
Summary: What ever happened to Gilderoy Lockhart? And who cares? Harry finds out and starts to care ... and winds up falling head over heels in love. So that makes this slash. COMPLETE
1. Six years, four walls, no visitors

Chapter One  
  
Six years, four walls, no visitors  
  
  
It was Harry Potter's first time at the hospital, at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Neville Longbottom had invited him along to visit his parents, who were getting better by the day since the final defeat of Voldemort. They recognized him quite often, more often than not actually, and were always grateful for their son's visits, especially when he brought friends to visit them.  
  
Knowing that Neville wanted a few minutes alone with his parents, Harry had excused himself after a charming visit with the former Auror and his wife. Of course, St. Mungo's, like muggle hospitals, was a quiet, somewhat uncomfortable place, although a bit more airy than muggle institutions of its kind. Harry wandered about for a while, watching mediwitches and mediwizards walking to and fro, glancing down the hall from time to time for any sign of young Mister Longbottom.  
  
As he walked down the hall, Harry happened to look into the window of a room. He stopped in his tracks, astonished. He had never expected to see anyone that he knew in the hospital, but here was someone. Seated upon a low, neatly made bed was a man in hospital robes with a sad, but somewhat stupid look on his rather handsome face, a face that Harry would never forget. It was Gilderoy Lockhart, the arrogant fraud of a professor from his second year at Hogwarts.  
  
"What is he doing here?" Harry asked out loud.  
  
"Excuse me?" asked a mediwitch, stopping as she heard his question.  
  
Harry turned and asked her, "What is that man doing here?"  
  
The woman looked a little sad as she said, "Oh, him. He is suffering from a Memory Charm gone wrong. Incurable, they say. He's being kept here for his own safety."  
  
Doing a quick count of the years, Harry said, "But he's been in here for almost six years!"  
  
"I believe so." she said, shaking her head and tutting sadly.  
  
Harry looked through the little pane of glass and saw Gilderoy wipe his eyes on his sleeve. He was crying.  
  
"Of course, he's crying." Harry thought. "They've kept him locked up in a little room for almost six years." Harry frowned. "Well, serves him right. He used memory charms on other people, didn't he?" "But did any of them wind up in the hospital ... permanently?" he thought, debating internally with himself. Harry sighed softly.  
  
Turning back to the mediwitch, he asked, "Does he get many visitors?"  
  
"Not a one that I can remember."  
  
"Might I visit with him?"  
  
"Well, technically only family members are allowed ..." she hesitated.  
  
Harry hated to do it. He used his position and fame for very little. It wasn't a nice thing to do, but then ... six years without any visitors, even with the compassionate care provided by St. Mungo's, it had to be wretched.  
  
Harry brushed his messy dark hair away from his forehead to reveal his scar and asked, "Please, just for a few minutes?"  
  
The woman's eyes widened. She recognized the famous mark.  
  
"Of ... course, Mister Potter. I am certain that an exception can be made in your case. And ... and take as long as you like." she stammered.  
  
"Thank you. I really appreciate it." he said with smile and nod before opening the door and walking into the hospital room.  
  
Gilderoy raised his head from his hands as Harry entered and closed the door softly behind himself. He looked rather surprised.  
  
"Hello, are you new here?" asked Lockhart, wiping his eyes on his sleeve again.  
  
"I'm just visiting." answered Harry, noticing small crow's feet that had formed around Lockhart's eyes. Six years was a long time. "You don't remember me do you?" he questioned.  
  
"I don't remember much of anything. But ... you do seem familiar." said Gilderoy, staring at him intently. "Before I came here ... I was in a dark place with a red-headed boy. Then there was another boy and a girl ... and a bird. You remind me very much of the second boy."  
  
He smiled and nodded, "Yeah, that was me. My name is Harry."  
  
"They call me Gilderoy. Gilderoy Lockhart. You're all grown up now, aren't you?" asked Gilderoy, smiling and standing. His feet were bare against the stone floor.  
  
"I am." said Harry. "And so are the other boy and the girl."  
  
"Are they here too?" he asked, brightening further.  
  
"Ah, no, they're not."  
  
Gilderoy nodded and looked sadder, but understanding as he said, "I don't often have visitors, unless you count the hospital staff."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"I suppose I wasn't a very nice person before I lost my memory. No friends. No family."  
  
"You weren't ... that bad. You did some things that you ought not have, but ... who hasn't?"  
  
"Did you know me well?" asked Gilderoy, stepping closer. Harry glanced at his hands and noticed they were chapped.  
  
"Not really. You were one of my teachers." answered Harry. "If I may ask, what's wrong with your hands?"  
  
Gilderoy looked at them and sighed, "Oh, well, I wash potion bottles sometimes. My hands just seem to do this. Too delicate, I suppose. They gave me some salve for them, but it doesn't smell so nice." Harry glanced at a sink in the corner and a green jar on the corner of it and then at Gilderoy's hands. They were very delicate. "Of course, it isn't that bad. It gives me something to do, you know."  
  
"It must be very boring for you here."  
  
"I don't know ... I get the feeling sometimes that my life wasn't all that exciting before, that I didn't like a lot of excitement. But it is ... it is very lonely here." Gilderoy admitted. His face twisted as he held back the tears and turned to wipe his eyes.  
  
"I didn't mean to upset you. Perhaps I should go ..." said Harry, watching his shoulders shake.  
  
"Please, don't. It may be years before anyone comes here again." Gilderoy managed.  
  
Harry put a hesitant hand on Gilderoy's shoulder, trying to forget everything that he knew about the man that Lockhart himself had forgotten: the egotism, the fraud he had perpetrated, and the trouble he had caused Harry and Ron in their quest for the Chamber of Secrets. For a moment he could only see the handsome, but broken and suffering man before him, dressed in thin hospital robes and desperate for comfort and companionship, for anyone to keep the loneliness away. Harry slipped an around Gilderoy's waist, pulling him closer, and hushed him.  
  
"Don't worry. I won't leave you." he said more fiercely than he meant to, feeling Lockhart's muscles relax beneath his touch.  
  
"Thank you." Gilderoy sobbed quietly, placing his hand over the one Harry kept on his shoulder.  
  
"I want ... I would like to take you with me ... because even after everything ... after all the stuff ... I don't think it's right for someone to always be ... alone. And I have to admit it. It is a lonely world out there too." said Harry, struggling to say the right words, to give voice to his feelings.   
  
He knew a lot about loneliness too, after all, from his childhood in the cupboard under the stairs, always the outsider, always shunned. And since school and the war had both ended, he was living alone in a cottage in the country, struggling to keep up old friendships and to write his memoirs, which Hermione and Ron Weasley had insisted that he do.  
  
"You would do that?" asked Gilderoy, removing Harry's arm from his waist and turning to face him again. He looked astonished.  
  
"If the people here will let me."  
  
Gilderoy smiled and pulled Harry into a very sudden and heartfelt embrace. For a moment Harry was caught off-guard. His heart pounded as he accepted the hug, warm tears, Gilderoy's tears, sliding down his neck.  
  
"This is ... interesting." Harry thought as he smelled Gilderoy's hair. "This is heaven." He blushed slightly as he realized that he was taking advantage of the situation. "Poor man! Probably nobody's even so much as touched him since he got here." he thought, recognizing the terrible feeling of isolation, physical and emotional, that Gilderoy must have felt.  
  
Harry stroked Gilderoy's back for a few moments until he regained control of his emotions and pulled away.  
  
"Terribly sorry ..." he sniffed.  
  
"Quite all right." said Harry. "I have to leave you for a little while. I need to talk to some people about you and your situation. But I shouldn't be long."  
  
"I understand." said Gilderoy, wiping his eyes again. "I may have lost my memory, but I'm not stupid, you know." he added. Harry looked at him and tried not to laugh. An uncertain look came to Gilderoy's face. "Am I?" he asked.  
  
"Um, not in so many words ... Excuse me."  
  
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A/N: So how was it? Review and let me know.  
  
  
  



	2. A cottage in the country

Chapter Two  
  
A cottage in the country  
  
  
It had required a substantial amount of talking with the hospital administrators for them even to consider it. But they were a compassionate group of wizarding medical professionals and understood the potential benefit of Lockhart leaving the hospital, where no amount of treatments had done him any good. On the other hand, famous or not, Harry Potter was young, only nineteen and hardly old enough to comprehend the responsibility required in such matters. The convincing they needed was substantial. And yet, somehow Harry managed to pull it off.  
  
By sunset that evening, long after Neville Longbottom had kissed his mother good-bye, Harry found himself buckling Gilderoy Lockhart into his muggle car and starting the long drive home with a house guest. Gilderoy, who had changed into the clothes that he had entered St. Mungo's in, stared mutely out the window in wonder as they drove, awed by things he had never seen before: street lamps, other cars, traffic signals, and the wide open country between the city and Harry's home. Harry, watching Lockhart out of the corner of his eye, was beginning to feel worried. What if his choice had been an impulsive one, based only on the longing he felt for human companionship, masculine companionship to be more precise? What if he wasn't capable of doing this, of taking care of another person? Not that Gilderoy was an invalid, but still ...  
  
As the sky around them darkened and Gilderoy saw his own reflection in the glass of the window, he turned and asked Harry in a trembling voice, "Harry, do you think I'm handsome?"  
  
Harry lost in his own thoughts and worries answered automatically, "Yes." He had hardly heard the question.  
  
"One of the ... an orderly ... at the hospital ... he thought so too." Gilderoy whispered in return, feeling a sick sense of dread and foreboding for the first time since he had been set free.  
  
Harry jerked out of his introspection and slammed on the brakes. Gilderoy cowered in his seat as Harry turned and looked at him.  
  
"My God! Tell me that nothing happened to you in there! Please, Gilderoy." said Harry, pulling off to the side of the road.  
  
"N... Noth... Nothing happened." he stuttered, squeezing his eyes closed.  
  
Harry realized instantly that he shouldn't have raised his voice.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." said Harry in a much quieter voice. "Is there something that you want to tell me?"  
  
"He said that I shouldn't tell anyone at the hospital, that he would cast another, stronger memory charm on me and I'd be a vegetable." said Gilderoy. "I thought I could tell you ..."  
  
"You can. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." said Harry, placing a gentle hand on Gilderoy's arm to reassure him.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then maybe I can tell you one day, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to enjoy being free."  
  
  
The hour was late when they reached Harry's home, which he affectionately called the Little Burrow in homage to the Weasley family home. The ride had been quiet. Harry was more worried than ever, but staunchly refusing to regret what he had done. Gilderoy, possibly spent from the excitement, both good and bad, of the day, was unsteady on his feet as he climbed from the car.  
  
"May I help you?" Harry asked, offering to support him as they walked from the garage to the house.  
  
"Thank you." said Gilderoy, nodding his assent.  
  
Harry slipped an arm around his companion's waist and allowed Gilderoy to lean on him.  
  
"Gilderoy, if I ever say or do anything to make you uncomfortable or afraid, I want you to let me know straight away, all right?" he said, feeling a slight rush as Gilderoy breathed into his ear, almost sighing with contentment.  
  
"I will try, Harry."  
  
  
The cottage was dark for a moment as they walked in, but the magical lights came up slowly, recognizing the return of the master of the house. A warm fire started in the hearth, casting a cheerful glow upon the slightly untidy, but cozy little cottage. Harry smiled. It was good to be home.  
  
"I have a guest room where you can sleep. In fact, it can be your room from now on if you want." he told Gilderoy, leading him toward it. "It's a bit of a mess." Harry added, remembering that he still had not gotten around to decorating the room properly.  
  
The guest room was small with a slanted ceiling, a wooden twin bed, a writing desk covered with papers, scrolls, and the odd book, a well-used and dusty bureau, and a window that looked out across the garden. The room smelled faintly of old books and cedar. A door near the bed lead to the guest bath. Gilderoy smiled as he looked at the quilts piled on the bed, the splashes of color and warmth.  
  
"It's perfect." he breathed, taking it all in.  
  
"I think some of my old things are in the bureau, but I'll have to magic them a bit for them to fit you ..." said Harry, greatly ruing that his guest would have to wear hand-me-downs at least temporarily. He pulled out a long night shirt, barely worn because it was an obnoxious lime green.  
  
"I can sleep in my underclothes." said Gilderoy quickly, almost as though Harry had proposed moving the moon for him.  
  
"No bother." Harry assured him, pulling out his wand. "_Garmento Engorgio_ !" he cast. The shirt ballooned out until it had doubled in size. He held it up and admired the size change. "Sorry about the color. It was a gift." said Harry, tossing him the shirt.  
  
"I don't mind the color. Honest."  
  
Gilderoy laid the night shirt almost reverently on the bed and began to undress. Harry shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing toward the door to the bath. It was obvious that the man was accustomed to having no privacy. In fact, Harry was certain that Gilderoy had no idea how unusual his behavior was.  
  
But somehow Harry couldn't bring himself to tell him or to turn away as Gilderoy removed his robes and folded them neatly, placing them on the bed. Then he removed his shoes and socks, the former of which were tucked neatly under the bed. Gilderoy unbuttoned his shirt with slightly clumsy fingers, unaccustomed to the task because of the memory charm and the nature of hospital clothes even in the wizarding world, and draped the garment over the foot board of the bed. His chest was still firm, smooth, and slightly muscular, like his lower arms. Harry wondered absently if washing potion bottles had been his only activity. He doubted it. But then his ribs were a bit too easy to see, Harry decided. While hardly malnourished, it was easy to see that Gilderoy had not been eating so well.  
  
As Gilderoy began unbuttoning his pants, struggling with the buttons, Harry refrained from offering assistance. The idea was both mildly erotic and uncomfortable at the same time. If only Gilderoy hadn't had such a bad time of it, Harry thought. After a few minutes Lockhart had removed the pants. His legs were a bit pale, but not unshapely or unlovely. Like his hands, they were somewhat delicate, not so fragile as porcelain, but as elegant as any lightly colored clay or perhaps the newer branches of some white barked tree.   
  
Harry breathed in sharply as a pair of briefs fell heedlessly to the floor. He willed his eyes to remain, where they were, looking at Gilderoy's rather sizable feet, but they would not obey. They drifted upward, following the curve of his legs, his narrow hips, until a flash of light green cloth caused him to blink.  
  
"Do you have somewhere I might put my laundry?" questioned Gilderoy innocently.  
  
"Do I have a which?" asked Harry.  
  
"Laundry?"  
  
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll take everything." said Harry, having the feeling that his pants were suddenly under a shrinking charm.  
  
Gilderoy handed him his freshly discarded clothes, and Harry left the room quickly. He deposited the laundry in a basket before disappearing into his own bedroom and taking a few deep breaths.  
  
"Harry?" called a voice from down the hall.  
  
"I'll be right there!" Harry yelled back, taking a few more calming breaths before returning to the guest room.  
  
"What time is lights-out, Harry?" asked Gilderoy, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Well, I don't have a set time. I suppose it's whenever you're tired." answered Harry.  
  
"Can I go to bed now?"  
  
"Sure, and you don't need to ask me."  
  
Gilderoy pulled back the covers and slipped between the sheets. He smiled. He looked a bit careworn, in Harry's opinion, but happy. Not like Professor Lockhart had looked when he was the center of attention. Rather the opposite. He looked content, relaxed. And his natural smile was actually quite charming. The lights in the rooms dimmed.  
  
"Good-night, Harry."  
  
"Pleasant dreams, Gilderoy." said Harry, turning to go.  
  
"Aren't you going to lock the door?" Gilderoy called after him.  
  
"Do I need to?" asked Harry.  
  
"No, I suppose not."  
  
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A/N: I'm trying to think of a better title for this story, so the title may change in the future.  
  
shadowycat: You're right. More visits would have been better. I wish I had thought of that, but I put so much energy into finding a plausible reason for Harry to be at St. Mungo's that I just didn't think of it. But then, can't we just chalk it up to the Gryffindor act-first-think-later mentality?  
  
Victor Stillwater: The pairing wouldn't/ won't leave me alone. As for the tension ... Sorry, but I just see some situations as naturally a little awkward. Thanks for pointing it out though.  
  
Purple*Passion: Thank you for the review!  
  
Michelle: I can't answer your question about Gilderoy's memory (because I just don't know yet). I don't read a lot of slash myself, but I read enough of it to inspire me to write it (at least this once). I liked your 'charming idiot' comment. That was exactly what I'm going for.  
  
  



	3. The worst of years come to an end

Chapter Three  
  
The worst of years come to an end  
  
  
  
Harry prepared breakfast for both of them the next morning. Gilderoy seemed slightly pensive as he sat at the table watching Harry making an omelet. It was obvious that something was on his mind, that he was troubled.  
  
"Did you have a good night?" Harry asked him.  
  
"Nightmares." Gilderoy whispered. There was something disconcertingly childlike about the man. The thought made Harry just a bit uncomfortable.  
  
"Yeah, because you want to bang him." he thought uneasily. "Can you talk about them?" he asked, serving breakfast.  
  
"I'm in a full ... a full body bind again and _he's_ touching me. I don't ... want him to. I don't like him. And I can't move."  
  
Harry's stomach felt sour as he pulled a chair closer to where Gilderoy was sitting. He reached toward him and made eye contact, pausing long enough for him to nod his permission. Harry laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"It's okay now. No one can hurt you anymore." he told Gilderoy. There was a fierceness in his voice almost as though he were making a vow.  
  
"They used to give me dreamless sleep potions at the hospital sometimes."  
  
"I can make one of those for you, or we can talk about it if you want. I've often heard that that's the best thing."  
  
Gilderoy lunged toward him, pulling Harry into a crushing hug without any warning and beginning to sob. Harry patted his back and struggled for breath. As Gilderoy's maniac grip lessened, Harry relaxed and gently touched his soft, wavy hair and kneaded the back of his neck. The passionate instincts of the night before that had sent him scrambling to his room became compassionate feelings as he held Gilderoy close. His own eyes moistened with tears as he felt Gilderoy's body trembling with pent-up sobs.  
  
Harry walked him cautiously to the couch in the living room in front of the hearth and sat down with him. He smoothed Gilderoy's hair and wiped his eyes and cheeks with his own sleeve.  
  
"How long did it go on?" he asked gently.  
  
"Five months ... almost six, I think." Gilderoy answered.  
  
"And ... when did he stop?"  
  
"Almost a year ago now, but these things, from what I know, they ... stay with you don't they? Anyway, I think the staff was getting suspicious of him. Maybe they sacked him. Maybe he just got bored of me."  
  
"Bored? Of him?" Harry thought. "Not bloody likely."  
  
"I was ... afraid sometimes that he would come back. It was funny though. Some of the mediwitches thought I was handsome too, and they always tried to comfort me when I was afraid or bring me an extra dessert, but I ... never felt anything more than gratitude toward any of them, not even the prettiest or kindest ones. As much as he had hurt me, made me afraid or ashamed, I wanted ... I wanted someone who was a him, but who would treat me as kindly as those witches, someone that I could love ... Is that wrong, Harry?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"Of course not. You have the right to choose who you love. That's what my friends always told me." said Harry with a little grin, remembering the look on Seamus Finnigan's face when he, not to mention the rest of the Quidditch team, walked in on him and Fred Weasley during his sixth year. After the initial shock, there had been butter beer toasts to their health and happiness at Hogsmeade.  
  
"Harry, could you ... I mean, this must sound so silly. But could you ever ... love me?" asked Gilderoy, raising his eyebrows. His eyes were so hopeful, so desperate, so afraid, so lonely. Harry had to wonder if he had ever looked at Fred that way.  
  
"Gilderoy ... I _know_ I could love you, but would that really be the best thing right now? I know you're hurting and that you need so much ..." Harry told him, patting his hand gently.  
  
"I know that too and what I think I need ... is you."  
  
Gilderoy reached toward Harry and began unbuttoning his shirt with fumbling fingers. For an instant Harry thought about what a bad idea it might be. Then he mentally shrugged and started to help Gilderoy, who gave him a timorous smile.   
  
The job was halfway done when a loud tapping at the window startled them.  
  
"Of all the time to get an owl!" Harry thought, groaning and trying to ignore it.  
  
"I don't believe it." said Gilderoy, who had looked over his shoulder at the noise. "Harry, there is an enormous white owl tapping on your window. Amazing!"  
  
"Her name is Hedwig, and she has a delightfully inappropriate sense of timing." Harry told him as the insistent owl began tapping again.  
  
After opening the window, Harry took his letter from the owl and sat down to read it, not to mention clear his head. The owl perched on the back of Harry's couch, looking Gilderoy over with her great yellow eyes.  
  
"Does she bite, Harry?" asked Gilderoy, reaching to pet the bird.  
  
"No, but she might nip at you a bit." he replied, glancing up for a moment to watch Gilderoy cautiously touching the owl. It was rather sweet.  
  
Hedwig made a funny little noise, but made no move to fly away or maul him.  
  
"I think she likes me." Gilderoy laughed.  
  
Harry, however, had returned his attention to his letter, which was from Hermione:  
  
"_Dear Harry, I heard a rumor just this morning that you left St. Mungo's with none other than Gilderoy Lockhart and took him home with you. You know that I never believe anything that I hear on the street. But it was Lavender Brown from the hospital that told me ... If it's true, then there must be a fantastic story behind it. In any event, owl me back would you? Love, Hermione Weasley_."  
  
Grabbing a piece of stationary from a nearby end table, Harry scribbled a reply, glancing at Gilderoy and Hedwig as he did so. He smiled as he watched them.  
  
"I bet she can tell just as easily as I can how hard it's been for him." he thought, writing his note to Hermione.  
  
"_Dear Hermione, I was going to write and tell you, but I guess it will be less shocking to hear this way. The answer to your questions is, yes, I have taken Gilderoy Lockhart in. Don't ask me why. It gets too complicated too fast. Just imagine spending six years in a hospital room with no visitors. Yeah ... But don't mention this Ron, if you don't mind. I'm not sure he would be happy with my decision given his history with Gilderoy. I'll break the news to him gently ... eventually. Love, Harry_."  
  
"Sorry, Gilderoy, but I need Hedwig to deliver this to Hermione for me. We're trying to keep up correspondence and everything." said Harry, folding his letter and holding it up for the owl, which made rather regular trips from the Little Burrow to the home of Ron and Hermione Weasley.  
  
"She will come back, won't she?" asked Gilderoy as Hedwig swooped over to Harry and claimed the letter before winging her way out the window.  
  
"Of course." chuckled Harry.  
  
There was an awkward silence as Harry looked down at his half buttoned shirt.  
  
"Where to go from here ..." he thought.  
  
"I think breakfast might be a bit cold." Gilderoy observed, looking toward the kitchen. He too could sense the awkwardness caused by the interruption.  
  
"I'll warm it up if you're hungry."  
  
"I could eat."  
  
  
Harry couldn't stop glancing at Gilderoy's clothes as he ate. They didn't look that bad, but he had worn hand-me-down things himself and it bothered him to see Gilderoy in them. He thought of his vault at the wizard's bank and knew that he could easily afford to feed and cloth his guest. Then, of course, there was his Quidditch income. Thinking of that reminded him that the season would be starting in a few weeks, and he imagined that taking Gilderoy along with him would be splendid. Finances, obviously, were not a problem. Harry only wondered what Gilderoy would think about him buying everything for him. Ron had always hated being given even a sickle, much less a galleon. Would Gilderoy feel the same? One of a thousand things to worry about.  
  
"So ... would you like to go shopping this afternoon?" Harry asked him, trying to sound enthusiastic.  
  
"Shopping? That's when you go somewhere and buy something, right?"  
  
"Yes, very good. So would you?"  
  
"I would get to go places where there are people?"  
  
"Yes ..." answered Harry, wondering if it was a good thing or a bad thing.  
  
"I would love to go shopping then."  
  
"Great. I know just the place to take you. Diagon Alley and Troubadour Alley in wizarding London. Best places to find clothes and things."  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
Harry glanced at his hearth, which was full of ashes and cinders, and said, "We will be traveling by floo powder, of course."  
  
Gilderoy only smiled vacantly.  
  
  
It had never bothered Harry that Ron wasn't incredibly smart. And, now that he thought about it, Neville's brand of mild stupidity had only annoyed him once in a great while.  
  
"One more time." Gilderoy requested as they stood in front of Harry's hearth.  
  
"You throw the floo powder in the fire, step into the fireplace, and say very clearly where it is you're going. That's all there is to it." said Harry, trying to hide the impatience in his voice. He had been new to the method himself once, and he tried to remember that.  
  
"So I would want to say, 'Diagon Alley', right?"  
  
"Yes, exactly." nodded Harry.  
  
Gilderoy put his hands on his hips and said, "I still don't understand how ..."  
  
"You can't trust me?"  
  
Gilderoy looked at him with a wounded expression as he said, "I never meant that! I just ... don't understand these things."  
  
"You're a wizard, Gilderoy." he told him, adding silently, "Although, I suspect you're nearly a squib." "You were born to be a part of the wizarding world. Memory or no, these things will eventually seem natural to you."  
  
"Thanks, Harry."  
  
"Go on then." he instructed, holding out a little pot of floo powder.  
  
Gilderoy took a handful of the powder and threw the powder into the flames, just as he had been instructed. Stepping into the hearth, he took a deep breath before saying "Diagon Alley" and vanishing in a roar of magical flame.  
  
"Not bad." nodded Harry, collecting a handful of powder for himself and following him.  
  
  
Gilderoy was sitting on the floor in the back room of the Diagon Alley shop that was the designated floo for the area. He was brushing soot from his clothes with a dazed look on this face. For a moment Harry was a bit concerned.  
  
"That go all right for you?" he asked Gilderoy, giving him a hand up.  
  
"It was amazing. Can we do it again?" he asked, peering into the chimney with great interest.  
  
Relief washed over him as he brushed the soot from his own clothes. The last thing he needed was for Gilderoy to have an irrational fear of floos.  
  
"Of course. We'll be going home that way." said Harry, leading him out the back door of the shop.  
  
"Messy business though." commented Gilderoy.  
  
"Can't be helped. It's easier than apparating and faster than bus or car." shrugged Harry as they walked up the alleyway leading to Diagon Alley.  
  
Gilderoy stopped short when he saw all the witches and wizards walking along the street, dozens of them and mostly an older crowd since school was in session. The colors of the robes and other wizarding attire dazzled his eyes as he watched the people walking by. It was a busy day on Diagon Alley.  
  
"Harry, what are they all doing here?" he asked in breathless awe.  
  
"Shopping, same as us. This is the very heart of wizarding London, you know." Harry told him. He nudged Gilderoy forward, but the man just wouldn't move. "Here, is this better?" he questioned, clasping Gilderoy's hand. He intertwined his fingers with Harry's in an even more intimate gesture.  
  
"I think so." said Gilderoy with a smile.  
  
"Come on then." said Harry, pulling him along down the crowded street and feeling ten feet tall as he glanced at the smiling, handsome man at his side. "This could be all right." he thought.  
  
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A/N: I know this fic keeps alternating between fluffy and disturbing. This is something of an experiment. I think (honestly) that is going to get better.  
  
Catspook: Thank you for the incredibly nice review! I love unusual pairings too.  
  
Michelle: Eep! *sighs and bangs head on desk* I never thought of it exactly that way. Maybe I should change the last chapter. Thanks for the different perspective!  
  
Sky Chief: Thank you! I am very glad that this isn't creepy and that the pairing works for someone else. And I appreciate you taking the time to let me know.  
  
  
  



	4. Diagon Alley

Chapter Four  
  
Diagon Alley  
  
  
They walked along Diagon Alley for sometime before Gilderoy paused in front of a shop window, Ollivander's. Harry watched Gilderoy as he stared into the wand shop. Something in his eyes was wistful and remembering.   
  
"I had one of those once. One of those things like you have." said Gilderoy softly. "I wonder whatever became of it."  
  
The Ministry had in all likelihood confiscated it. Wands were not safe in the hands of mental patients, generally speaking.  
  
"What kind was it?" asked Harry.  
  
Gilderoy seemed to snap out of his reverie.  
  
"Wooden, I think. I'm not sure really." he said, smiling and stating the patently obvious.  
  
"I'll look into finding your wand for you, if you want." Harry offered. Surely some of his friends at the Ministry could do him that little favor.  
  
"I think I would like that." nodded Gilderoy as they began walking again. "I don't know what I would do with a wand, of course, but it seems like ..."  
  
"Something you should have, right? Like something must be wrong if you aren't holding it or it's not in your pocket, close at hand."  
  
"I never noticed before, but I think maybe you're right, Harry."  
  
"Of course I am." he chuckled, giving Gilderoy's hand a squeeze.  
  
  
The incident at Ollivander's stuck with Harry as they continued their stroll, window shopping at book stores and other little shops along the alley. Gilderoy had remembered something, or perhaps intuited something, from his past. The impression that he had once possessed a wand had somehow filtered through the memory charm. That was quite extraordinary. Harry imagined that if Gilderoy got his wand back, he would probably remember more, that the wand could somehow jar his memory or reawaken something that had slept a charmed sleep in his mind while he was in the hospital.  
  
"Can we go into a book shop, Harry? I can't really read, you know, but sometimes ... I like to give it a try." said Gilderoy, pausing in front of Flourish and Blotts.  
  
"You can't read?" asked Harry incredulously.  
  
"Well, I can make out the letters all right and some words too, but it's just so hard, Harry. I don't see how anybody does it."  
  
"But you were once a brilliant writer. I mean, you wrote a lot of books, Gilderoy." said Harry.  
  
"I did?"  
  
"Yeah. The stuff in them was a lot of hogwash mostly, but they were very well written." he admitted. Harry had read _Magical Me _more than once over the years, considering it a rather masterful work of fiction. "Say, they might just have copies of your books here." he said, thoroughly enjoying the look on Gilderoy's face, which was one of utter disbelief.  
  
Dragging him into the book shop, which was always crowded, Harry immediately began skimming the shelves for any signs of Gilderoy's books.   
  
Gilderoy, on the other hand, could not take his eyes off the cluttered shelves full of colorful volumes on strange topics. He touched the soft leather spines of the books reverently, desperately trying to make sense of the things written upon them.  
  
"Here." said Harry, pulling an old copy of _Magical Me_ from the shelves and dusting it off before pressing it into Gilderoy's hands.  
  
"The man on the cover. Doesn't he look a lot like me?" questioned Gilderoy, looking at the moving picture of himself.  
  
"It is you, Gilderoy." said Harry.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes." Harry laughed.  
  
Gilderoy flipped through the pages of the book, picking out words here and there and frowning.  
  
"Am I to understand that I wrote this and that none of it is true?" he asked.  
  
"Well ... yes and no. Other wizards did the things you wrote about, but you didn't exactly give credit where credit was due." said Harry delicately.  
  
"Why ever would I do that?"  
  
"Fame? Fortune? Celebrity? Esteem?"  
  
"Oh, right ..." said Gilderoy, closing the book.  
  
"Would you like a copy of it? Maybe it could help you remember ..." suggested Harry.  
  
"But _my_ memories aren't in here."  
  
"You wrote the book, Gilderoy, so maybe it could help you remember doing that."  
  
"I don't want to remember my life before if I was only some horrible fraud with a fake smile." he said, returning the book to Harry.  
  
"I can understand, I suppose." he said, returning the book to its place on the shelf. "How about a Magical History primer or something instead?"  
  
"Sure. I think I can handle that."  
  
  
From the book store the pair walked to a reputable clothiers that specialized in robes, of course, and all the latest in wizarding wear. Harry took their bags from Gilderoy, shrank them to a more manageable size, and pocketed them as he nudged Gilderoy toward a rack of fine men's robes. Mostly of them were black, navy, or dark purple in color. Harry, oddly enough, remembered Gilderoy's preference for lighter colors and immediately began searching through another nearby rack. It was not a good year for the more fanciful hues; yellows, oranges, and beiges were particularly scarce, but Harry managed to find an ensemble in pale gold, beige, and antique white that looked most dashing and elegant.  
  
"Gilderoy!" he called, holding it up for him to see.  
  
A grin spread over his features as he looked at it.  
  
"Why Harry! What beautiful colors!" he said, dashing over.  
  
"It is a bit formal for everyday wear, but I do plan to take you places, if you don't object, that is." said Harry.  
  
"Of course not." said Gilderoy.  
  
Harry glanced at the formal dress robes and reminded himself, "I need another set too. Hermione was teasing me the last time I joined her and Ron for a Ministry function. Even Ron looked more stylish." It was perfectly true. Ron Weasley, having a good job and a wife who was working too, had managed to afford decent robes for a change. Harry's had looked old and out of fashion by comparison.  
  
Plucking a set of scarlet and gold robes from the tall-and-slim rack, Harry could not help but to admire his favorite colors. Gryffindor House forever, right? He seemed to remember Gilderoy favoring the color scheme himself. There would be a Ministry of Magic banquet in three weeks to celebrate the demise of Voldemort the year before. It would be the perfect occasion for them to go out on the town, Harry mused, picturing Gilderoy and himself in their stunning ensembles.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked Gilderoy.  
  
"For you? Oh, splendid." he said.  
  
"Let's go try them on then." said Harry, nodding toward the men's dressing room in the corner of the shop.  
  
  
Harry had never met anyone who was as hopelessly clumsy as Gilderoy Lockhart, including Neville Longbottom. When it came to buttons, clasps, zippers, and collars, the man was all thumbs. It was a good twenty minutes before he had the clothes and robes on properly. Harry, a master of quick changes, which were in the past followed by narrow escapes from the Ravenclaw dormitories, had his clothes on in practically an instant, without the help of magic or an extra set of hands.  
  
They stood together in front of the large mirror in the dressing area, admiring their jaunty new outfits. Harry watched in the mirror as Gilderoy put an arm around his shoulders almost as though they were posing together. Harry grinned and pulled him closer. Then he saw Gilderoy's face fall as he stood there looking at them. Gilderoy removed his arm and moved away.  
  
"What's the matter?" asked Harry, concerned, as Gilderoy began unfastening his lacy collar.  
  
"I don't know why I never noticed it before. I'm ... old."  
  
"You're what?"  
  
"Old! Old! The opposite of young."  
  
"Oh." said Harry, frowning. "But why are you upset? It's not like you're ugly or something."  
  
"How old am I, Harry?"  
  
"I don't know. Almost forty, I imagine, maybe younger, maybe older."  
  
"And you're?"  
  
"Almost twenty."  
  
"Half my age."  
  
"You are being silly, Gilderoy! It doesn't matter. We're wizards. What is age to us? I mean, when you looked at us in the mirror, didn't you see a handsome couple standing there or am I mistaken?"  
  
"I did. But, Harry, I think I look old enough to be your father." he said, his lower lip quivering.  
  
"Trust me, Gilderoy, you look nothing like my dad." Harry chuckled. "You look like a handsome, dapper, and, yes, older gentleman wizard whom anyone would be proud to call their companion ... or even lover."  
  
"Do you mean it, Harry, honestly?"  
  
"Absolutely. Now let's get changed. We still have a lot to do this afternoon." said Harry, smiling at him.  
  
  
They left the shop with several outfits, including some casual, everyday clothing and some Quidditch fan wear for Gilderoy, who solidly agreed to support Harry's team, despite the fact that he had no clue about the sport.  
  
As they stepped out of the clothiers, a little man with a camera scampered up to them.  
  
"Picture for _The Daily Prophet_?" he asked them, holding up the camera.  
  
Harry grabbed Gilderoy with his free arm, the one not weighted down with some of their purchases, and joked, "I wonder if we still rate the front page."  
  
"Too right you do!" cackled the man, snapping a couple of photographs.  
  
Harry felt Gilderoy's soft blond hair brush his cheek as they leaned together, posing good-naturedly for the photographer.  
  
"Can we get a copy of that?" asked Harry.  
  
"Of course! Of course! Only too happy." the photographer laughed before scuttling away with a delighted smile on his face.  
  
"You know, Harry, I am having the strangest sensation ..." said Gilderoy as they untangled their bags and arms.  
  
"Déjà vu?"  
  
"Deja who?"  
  
"It's the feeling that you've done something before."  
  
"Then that's it exactly."  
  
"Well, we have, sort of, only it was at the book shop. You were autographing your latest book, and I was buying school supplies."  
  
"And we had our picture taken together?"  
  
"Right." nodded Harry, pulling him across the street toward a small cafe.  
  
"I don't mean to sound nosy or impertinent, Harry. I can imagine that they wanted my picture back then because I wrote books. But what about you? Is it because you're a Quidditch star or something?" he asked as they found a table.  
  
"When you were in the hospital, did anyone mention Voldemort or You-Know-Who?" questioned Harry, picking up a menu to hide the blush that was creeping into his cheeks. He hated to talk about himself and the things he had done.  
  
"I remember last year ... Everyone was so happy. Somebody, whose name no one wanted to say, got defeated in a duel or something. There were parties, I think." said Gilderoy.  
  
"I was the guy who won the duel."  
  
"Oh, congratulations then! Nice work!" said Gilderoy with a smile.  
  
"Thank you." chuckled Harry, realizing that his companion had no notion of how famous he was. It was comforting.  
  
"You wouldn't by any chance have a copy of the original photograph of us, would you?"  
  
"Sorry, but I was never big on saving news clippings. Kind of embarrassing." said Harry.  
  
"Pity." sighed Gilderoy, finally looking a menu.  
  
Harry couldn't help but to agree. He had never given the picture much thought before, not to mention that he had hated having it taken, but given his current circumstances, it would have been nice to have around. Something for the mantelpiece.  
  
  
  
When they returned to Harry's cottage that night with more bags than Harry could fit in his pockets, regardless of how small he shrank them, they were both pleasantly tired. It had been a good day, the best day he had ever had, in Gilderoy's opinion. Harry returned the bags and their contents to their original size and set them on the couch, looking rather pleased with himself.  
  
Wiping the soot and ashes from his face with an amused smile, Gilderoy commented, "I could use a shower or something." He glanced at Harry in the dim orange glow of the sitting room and said, "And so could you. I could write my name on your face in the grime."  
  
"You want to try?" asked Harry, taking off his glasses and closing his eyes.  
  
Harry felt Gilderoy slowly lift his chin with his fingertips. Warm, soft lips pressed against his own. The kiss was tender, but not hesitant. Searching. Harry opened his mouth and kissed Gilderoy hungrily, lifting his eyelids to watch the surprise in his eyes. Gilderoy moaned and gently sucked Harry's lower lip, slipping an arm behind Harry and pulling him closer. Passion. For a moment Harry grabbed a handful of Gilderoy's shirt, silently begging him not to let go, not to stop. As they parted Gilderoy touched Harry's face, rubbing away a smudge of soot with his thumb as he caught his breath.   
  
It had been sometime for either of them. Gilderoy could not remember sharing anything so wonderful as that kiss. And Harry had never felt more certain, more comfortable about kissing anyone, about touching anyone, about being with anyone in his life. The doubt had vanished when their lips touched.  
  
"Shower?" gasped Harry breathlessly.  
  
"How can you think of showering now?" asked Gilderoy, confused and winded, almost giddy from the kiss.  
  
"Together ..." Harry hinted.  
  
"Let's go then." he said with a half shy, half mischievous smile.  
  
  
The thing Harry had loved most about the cottage when he purchased it was the luxurious master bathroom. After seven years washing in the dingy, poorly lit, drafty, and old school baths, it was exactly what he wanted for his very own. An enchanted scrub brush scooted out of their way as Harry and Gilderoy dashed inside, slipping slightly on the magically warmed tiles. Moonlight was shining through the skylight above them even as candles in silvery holders on the walls began to glow in recognition of their master's arrival. The shower, which Harry imagined could hold at least four people, was almost completely non-magical, but the water heated so quickly that Harry sometimes wondered.  
  
Harry whipped his robes off quickly and began stripping down, watching Gilderoy with a playful smile as he fumbled frantically with his buttons, panic and desire burning in his dark blue eyes. The desire was like a highly contagious malady of the soul and mind, infecting him even as he watched his soon-to-be lover struggling with his clothes. Harry licked his lips, still able to taste that first impassioned kiss as he fully disrobed and moved to help Gilderoy with the remainder of his clothes.  
  
"Let me." said Harry, his voice deepening with the bottled up longing.  
  
"Please." breathed Gilderoy, tossing his shirt aside and tugging at his pants as he drank in the sight of the pale yet seductive form standing before him, a thin sheen of perspiration on his skin.  
  
In an instant Harry had his trousers down to his ankles, allowing, encouraging Gilderoy to use his shoulders to balance as he swept the garment aside and reached for the last stitch of fabric that stood between them. As they both struggled frantically to remove the plain briefs, they became entangled, landing in a heap on the floor with a soft smack.  
  
Harry chuckled as Gilderoy laughed softly, running his hand down Harry's back, looking up into his blazing and mischievous green eyes. They remained there on the warm floor for several minutes, laughing and kissing one another. Harry nipped at Gilderoy's neck and as he gasped in return, squeezing Harry's thigh, he knew it was time for a nice warm shower.  
  
He pulled Gilderoy to his feet and into the glass shower cubicle, turning on the water as he stepped inside. It was cold only for an instant and they did not feel it as they melted into one another's arms. Harry could taste sweat and a little soot from the fireplace on Gilderoy's skin as he kissed his throat. It was intoxicating. Gilderoy's hands drifted down, running his hands over Harry's smooth skin, relishing every touch, every sensation.  
  
  
They washed each other's hair silently, not letting mundane words spoil what they had just had together, and then they stumbled into Harry's bedroom where he pulled Gilderoy into bed with him.  
  
"Do you want to sleep here with me?" he asked, arranging the covers.  
  
"Sure. Just for tonight?" asked Gilderoy shyly.  
  
"For as long as you want." answered Harry as the lights went out around them.  
  
"I think I might love you." Gilderoy whispered, nestling close to Harry.  
  
"Me too." Harry managed.  
  
He could feel Gilderoy beginning to fall asleep beside him. It was different, having another warm body to share his bed. And yet, he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He was warm, relaxed, and there was a gorgeous blond with his head resting on the other pillow, but something was bothering him.  
  
"It's so sudden. That's why I'm worried." thought Harry, reasoning out his discomfort. "He has lived here about twenty-four hours, and here he is, right next to me, like he's always been there, like he belongs with me. It's like a dream come true. But dreams never do. Only the nightmares. But maybe this one time, it can be a pleasant dream and not a nightmare ..."  
  
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A/N: In part due to an on-going censorship debate elsewhere on the web, I have attempted to keep this chapter very much PG-13.  
  
Oriana Dumbledore: Thank you so much for your review!  
  
InchySquinchy: Sorry about Ron and Hermione. Not one of my faves either, but I needed a default pairing, something obvious, to keep the story focused. They won't come into the story too terribly much. I like your pen name/ screen name by the way!  
  
Anonymous over-exuberant reviewer: Wow. Just wow.  
  
Michelle: And thank you for your continued reviews!  
  



	5. An invitation

Chapter Five  
  
An invitation  
  
  
When Harry rolled over onto cool sheets the next morning, he opened his eyes and realized that his companion wasn't there. For a moment he was worried, then he spotted Gilderoy across the room, seated by the window and watching the sun come up. A gray morning light touched his lover's skin. He looked so angelic, so beautiful. Harry smiled as Gilderoy turned.  
  
"I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Of course not." said Harry, sitting up and stretching.  
  
"It's pretty outside now. Chilly too, I imagine." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Sunrise."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It's warmer under the covers, you know."  
  
"Harry," he began, climbing back under the blankets, "what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life?"  
  
"Love and be loved, preferably by me." said Harry with a grin.  
  
"It was a serious question."  
  
"You were a writer once. You could co-author my memoirs with me."  
  
"I don't know if I'm capable ..."  
  
"All right. You learn to do magic again possibly."  
  
"Was I ever very good at magic?"  
  
"No, but you can't be any worse. It's just a thought."  
  
"I don't know. I want to learn, but what if I'm just too, you know, mentally and magically challenged."  
  
Harry chuckled and said, "It's possible, but I don't think you are. Let's get dressed and have some breakfast. I don't like to think on an empty stomach."  
  
  
After dressing they stood in front of Harry's mirror together, admiring some of their new togs. In any event, Gilderoy was admiring the clothes, but Harry was admiring the man, who after a night of sound sleep in what both would have easily considered the best of conditions, looked even better than the day before. His eyes were brighter, but not from tears, and his smile was almost carefree.  
  
"Maybe he was right. Maybe I really am what he needs." thought Harry with just a bit of pride. "Merlin knows that he's done me a bit of good. I can't remember the last time I felt this great."  
  
Harry kissed his companion lightly on the cheek and chuckled.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
"You, of course."  
  
"Can I help you make breakfast?" Gilderoy questioned.  
  
"I don't see why not. And afterwards I'll write a letter to my friend Percy at the Ministry of Magic and check on the condition of your wand, just like I said I would." said Harry, leading him into the kitchen.  
  
  
"Well, that was an unqualified disaster." said Harry, scraping a bit of pancake mix from the wall near the stove. Gilderoy was seated at the table with his head in his hands. "Not that I'm blaming you ... I've had a few things blow up on me too." he added hastily. "Although never something this simple." he thought.  
  
"I am sorry." said Gilderoy.  
  
"I know. I'm not upset or anything. Neither of us were burned. Nothing caught fire."  
  
"Except that oven mitt." Gilderoy pointed out, glancing at the smoking piece of fabric in the sink.  
  
"Lucky you weren't wearing it at that particular moment." commented Harry. "But the point is it was only a small accident, and it helps me to determine your skill in the area of the culinary arts."  
  
"Nonexistent."  
  
"But that can be fixed, especially now that we both know so much more about pancake batter, open flames, and spatulas, right?"  
  
"I suppose ..."  
  
"Come on, Gilderoy, let's just laugh it off and enjoy our pancakes." said Harry, looking at the plate of irregularly shaped, not to mention irregularly cooked, items on the table.  
  
Gilderoy raised his head and was about to say something when he suddenly grinned and pointed toward the window.  
  
"It's Hedwig!" he laughed, leaping up immediately to go let her in.  
  
The owl, always mindful of its duties, flew to Harry first and gave him his morning mail before circling back to land on Gilderoy's outstretched arm.  
  
"Thanks." said Harry absently, looking at the two letters. One was from Hermione. The other was a beautiful, formal envelope from the Ministry of Magic. Hedwig had made a special trip from London to pick it up.  
  
Setting Hermione's letter aside for the moment, Harry opened the letter from the Ministry to find that it was the official invitation to the Defeat of Voldemort Ball and Dinner, hosted by the Ministry of Magic. Harry grinned as he watched small wizarding pictures from last year's impromptu celebration. He thought he glimpsed himself dancing with Adair Arneau, a visiting seventh year from Beauxbatons, now graduated, in the corner of the ballroom. Ron and Hermione could be seen pouring each other punch, which had been richly spiked, not that anyone had cared. Ginny Weasley was tugging at Professor Snape's sleeve, trying desperately to get him onto the dance floor. The professor looked mortified. What a wonderful invitation! So much promise, so much potential for fun and mayhem and a jolly good time, Harry thought, glancing up from the pictures and looking at Gilderoy. At least this year, he would have a date.  
  
"Harry, what did she bring you this morning?" asked Gilderoy, who had begun feeding Hedwig little pieces of pancake, much to her delight.  
  
"A letter. And an invitation." said Harry, passing the latter to Gilderoy, who was seated at the table.  
  
"Oh, how lovely!" he said, squinting at the magical pictures. "Harry! You're in here ... with a boy."  
  
"Oh, no." Harry thought silently. "Yeah, I guess. He was just some guy I met at the dance. I didn't have a date or anything." he said, rushing to explain.  
  
Gilderoy closed the invitation and looked at him with complete sympathy.  
  
"And it was your party, in a way, wasn't it? The world can be so terribly cruel." he said.  
  
"Well ... I was asked by a lot of girls who didn't know. Only my friends knew that I liked guys, at least until the end of Quidditch season my sixth year, and even then ..." shrugged Harry. "But this year, I have you." he said, smiling at the thought of them walking into the ballroom, arm in arm and dressed to kill.  
  
"Really? You want me there with all those people? Harry, what if I embarrass you? I know that I'm not exactly, well, you know." he said, tapping his forehead.  
  
"Gilderoy," Harry began, nodding Hedwig away. The owl took the hint and went to perch and preen on a nearby chair. Harry put both of his hands on Gilderoy's shoulders. "I'm not worried about that, and you shouldn't be either. You've missed out on a lot in life, because of your memories being gone and because you were shut up in that hospital for so long. I won't let you miss out on anymore of it, especially not because of something so silly as that. Embarrassing me? Not a chance." Harry told him.  
  
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A/N: Do they eat pancakes in England? I've always wondered about that. (And I caught pancake batter on fire once, just so you know).  
  
  
PyrrosD: Well, here's another chapter! Thanks for the review.  
  
Catspook: Good point about the newspaper. Thanks for the suggestion. And I'm also glad you liked the escape from the dorm.  
  
InchySquinchy: Odd about covers it. Thanks for the sympathy and the review.   
  
  
  



	6. Guess who s coming to lunch

Chapter Six  
  
Guess who's coming to lunch  
  
  
  
Harry forgot all about Hermione's letter until after breakfast was finished and Gilderoy began washing the dishes, a task to which he was well suited given his work at the hospital, which had not, Gilderoy insisted, been a chore, but the thing that had kept him from going stark raving mad during his internment.  
  
Harry sank onto the couch and opened the letter from one of his best friends.  
  
"_Dear Harry, you know how I hate keeping things from Ron, but I certainly see your point. As you didn't say anything about our planned visit, however, I assume that it is still on. To remind you, since I'm sure there are other things on your mind, we were going to hash over how the three of us met since you said you wanted to put that in your memoirs ... which I hope you are working on. Sincerely, Hermione._"  
  
Harry could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest as he folded the letter up and dropped it on the nearest end table. The Weasleys, Ron and Hermione, were coming. They would arrive by floo powder at noon. He remembered. Gilderoy had driven the visit right out of his head. It had all been planned weeks ago. They three of them were going to sit around Ron's enchanted typewriter, illegal though it was, and pour out everything they could remember about meeting on the train and the sorting ceremony to help Harry 'get on with it' as Ron had put it.  
  
Ron had never really disapproved of anyone that Harry had liked or dated, even his own brother. Harry smiled a little as he remembered Ron's exact words:  
  
"Funny that you like Fred. I always thought you'd go for George myself."  
  
It had been a great way to break the tension during the last summer he had stayed with the Weasley family at the Burrow, and Fred and he had been caught snogging late one night. Harry thought that he might spend the rest of his life with young, energetic Fred, but after he had graduated and Harry began his last year at Hogwarts, they had grown apart surprisingly fast. Then there had been three Ravenclaw boys after the defeat of Voldemort, followed by a long period of loneliness and uncertainty.  
  
"Can Ron forgive Gilderoy for what happened down the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry wondered.   
  
The man's cowardice had nearly cost Ginny Weasley her life. And he had nearly cast memory charms on them. If their quest had failed, a second, younger and wiser Lord Voldemort would have been running around and Hogwarts would have been closed. Harry shuddered when he considered the consequences.  
  
"I can forgive him because I know what's happen to him since then and how he has changed ... and because I've fallen for him. Ron might not see it quite the same way." Harry thought.  
  
"Harry, is anything the matter?" asked Gilderoy, drying his hands at the sink.  
  
"We're going to have some visitors today. You might remember one of them. Ron Weasley. He was the red-headed boy you met six years ago, if you recall." said Harry.  
  
"Excellent! Although, now that I think about it, I seem to recall him kicking me in the shins for some unknown reason. Ah, well, that was a long time ago." said Gilderoy, unbothered by the news. "Who else?" he asked.  
  
"His wife, Hermione."  
  
"How lucky you are! I can't wait to meet your friends." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Ron might not seem to like you at first since he knew you ... before. He sometimes holds grudges." Harry told him.  
  
Gilderoy seemed to consider that for a moment before asking, "Does he hate me, Harry?"  
  
"I don't know. I never asked. But Ron isn't a hateful person. Whatever his first reaction might be to finding you here, he will get over it. For the sake of our friendship if for no other reason."  
  
  
Hermione was always very punctual, and that trait had rubbed off on Ron to some degree. So at noon Harry and Gilderoy found themselves standing in front of the floo, waiting to welcome their guests after spending much of the late morning preparing a lunch of cold meats and sandwiches. Gilderoy had wanted to help again, and Harry wanted to keep him away from the stove, or anything with an open flame for that matter. As they waited Gilderoy wiped his sweating palms on his robes nervously.  
  
"Don't worry. It won't be that bad." Harry told him, putting his arm around Gilderoy's shoulders.   
  
Gilderoy leaned in to kiss him, but a sudden whooshing sound caused them to turn towards the hearth again. Hermione emerged from the fireplace, dusting the soot from her clothes and sneezing softly. Something in either the floo powder or the ashes always seemed to do that to her. She fanned the airborne soot away from her face before grinning at Harry and Gilderoy.  
  
"My goodness, but Lavender was right! The two of you look _really_ good together." she told them, the surprise all too evident in her voice.  
  
"Stop! You're making him blush." laughed Harry, looking at Gilderoy with some satisfaction. The man was indeed turning a rosy color. "Now introduce yourself." said Harry, giving Gilderoy a slight prod in the ribs.  
  
"Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service." he said, flashing a winning, non-fake smile as he bowed slightly.  
  
"Hermione Weasley." she said, holding out her hand. Gilderoy hesitated a side-long glance at Harry before grasping her hand and then, almost as an after thought, kissing it.  
  
"How can a man forget almost everything else, but still remember his manners?" Harry wondered silently.  
  
A second loud sound from the fireplace caused Hermione to step out of the way as Ron emerged. His wife immediately began brushing the cinders from his robes to distract him at least momentarily from the blond man, who was smiling a bit uneasily.  
  
"I thought it was only going to be the three of us." complained Ron, trying to look around his wife's bushy curls. "Hang on! Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, moving Hermione out of the way to get a good look at Gilderoy Lockhart.  
  
"Ron, meet Gilderoy." said Harry. "Gilderoy, meet Ron." He smiled nervously for a moment.  
  
"I'm pleased to meet you ... again." said Gilderoy, smiling so hard that his face hurt. He didn't want to look antagonistic or afraid.  
  
"Harry ...?" Ron questioned blankly.  
  
"He lives here now." said Harry.  
  
"Is he ...," asked Ron, gesturing to his head, "you know, all there?"  
  
"Ronald Weasley! You mind your manners!" said Hermione, who had obviously spent too much time with her mother-in-law.  
  
"I don't mind." said Gilderoy quickly, afraid of an argument starting because of him. "I'm still suffering from a bad memory charm, so I think the answer would be a rather decisive 'no'."  
  
Ron looked at him for a moment with a stern expression. Then something unexpected happen. He laughed. Not maliciously, not nervously. Ron simply laughed.  
  
"Harry, I know how you always liked your men, but this is taking it to the extreme." he said, slapping Harry on the back. He was referring to the fact that Harry always went for the best, but never for the brightest, despite his short romances with Ravenclaws, one of whom actually made substandard marks in Herbology. "Put 'er there, pal." said Ron, sticking out his hand and still laughing. They shook hands, and Harry exhaled in relief.  
  
"I can't believe it! We were both worried for nothing." laughed Gilderoy, grinning at Harry.  
  
"Are we still on for our afternoon of reminiscing?" asked Ron, removing the typewriter, shrunk for the journey, and his wand from the inside of his robes.  
  
"Of course, and now we have an outsider's perspective to help us along." said Harry.  
  
"Wonderful!" said Hermione. "That's sure to help."  
  
Ron set the typewriter on the coffee table and turned it back into its normal size with a flick of his wand.  
  
"Exactly!" laughed Harry. "We are going have a spot of lunch first, right?"  
  
  
After a most suitable luncheon, during which the conversation mostly centered around goings on at the Ministry of Magic and the next Quidditch World Cup, which was likely to feature England's team, thanks to the recent addition of Harry to the team, the three old school chums moved into the sitting room. Gilderoy had insisted upon taking care of the dishes, giving the three the chance to talk quietly without being overheard.  
  
"Harry, I've got to hand it to you. I think you've done a good thing, taking him into your house and all." said Ron, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Can't imagine six years in the hospital myself. Gives me chills." he added for clarification.  
  
"Oh, go on, Ron, say what you really want to say." said Hermione, recognizing the words as a polite cover up for something else.  
  
Ron blushed scarlet. There were things that he could joke about, but could never talk about seriously. Harry's sexuality was one of them. He didn't disapprove. After knowing Harry for so long, he did want to see him happy, more than anything, really, because Harry deserved some happiness. But still, being uncommonly straight, it was difficult for him to talk about certain things.  
  
"Are you and him, you know, an item?" asked Ron.  
  
Hermione was looking at him quite expectantly too.  
  
"I suppose that means we didn't make the front page this morning. I really should see about getting the paper delivered." said Harry, a bit flustered by the inquiry, which was rather abrupt. "Yes, I believe that we are, and I can't remember being so happy." he answered after a moment, his face breaking out into a smile.  
  
"Er ... a bit sudden, isn't it?" asked Ron. "Or have you ... were you visiting him or something?"  
  
"It is happening rather fast." Harry admitted, his eyes drifting toward the kitchen. "But when it's right, should it really take forever to figure that out?" he asked quietly, almost talking to himself.  
  
"No, I suppose not, but a week at least ..." Hermione began to say. "No, you're right, Harry. Things like this ... they happen at their own speed." she said.  
  
Harry smiled at her. She had been the most supportive, and least confused, when he had told his closest friends about his preference in romantic partners. Hermione had warned him to be careful. She always told him to be careful. And he appreciated that. In many ways she was the sister that he had never had, older and wiser despite the fact that they were the same age. Her first instinct was always to protect him. Her second, to allow him to follow his heart.  
  
"Thanks, Hermione." he told her, adding silently, "I am glad that you understand."  
  
Ron cleared his throat before anything else could be said. It was his indication that Gilderoy was leaving the kitchen to join them.  
  
"Have I missed anything?" he questioned, plopping down on the couch next to Harry.  
  
"They were just asking about us." said Harry.  
  
"Did you tell them about the shower?" he questioned nonchalantly.  
  
"Um, no."  
  
"Right then. Harry, do you remember what time you arrived at the train station in London? I think I got there about ten minutes before the express was due to leave." said Ron, changing the subject and hurriedly turning on the typewriter.  
  
  
They talked long into the evening, producing page after page on the typewriter as they racked their brains to remember absolutely everything about meeting on the train and being sorted in the same house, into Gryffindor. Gilderoy listened to them, three of the best friends to go through Hogwarts since the days of the Marauders, not that he knew of them, and occasionally asked questions. Mostly he was silent, listening to Harry recount the story, which would someday become legend, especially if he ever finished those memoirs.  
  
Harry glanced at him from time to time, making sure that he wasn't bored or feeling left out, and felt for the first time that writing about his own life might be something that he really wanted to do. When he looked at Gilderoy, his own memories would suddenly become very precious to him, things that he didn't want to lose or forget. All of the best and all of the worst he had known of life became sacred relics, personal, but something to be shared too. He wanted to share all of his memories, his experiences with Gilderoy, just as Ron and Hermione wanted him to share them with the rest of the wizarding world.  
  
When Ron and Hermione were ready to return home, Ron asked Harry, "Do you want to keep the typewriter? I find inspiration comes easier with it than with one where you have to press the keys."  
  
"I'd like that, Ron. Thanks."  
  
"Anything to get you started, Harry." his friend said, stepping in the hearth.  
  
  
When their guests had gone, Harry returned to the couch and reclined, resting his head on Gilderoy's lap. The day had been both productive and a little exhausting, mentally at least. It felt as though his brain had been stretched.  
  
"Why not just buy a Pensieve?" he asked himself as he got comfortable. "Too rare, too hard to find, too ... uncomfortable." he answered silently.  
  
"Are you really going to write, Harry?" Gilderoy asked.  
  
"I don't know. I intend to do it, but it isn't easy. I don't know how you managed it." Harry sighed.  
  
Gilderoy ran his fingers through Harry's dark hair, almost idly touching his scarred forehead. He looked very thoughtful.  
  
"It must be not be so difficult if I managed it." he pondered aloud.  
  
"Don't sell yourself short. You did a good bit more than manage it."  
  
"If you still want, I could try to help you ... although, I don't know exactly how."  
  
"Of course you will help me, Gilderoy. You will inspire me. You will be my very own muse." Harry told him, taking his hand and kissing his wrist.  
  
"Then I will have a purpose in life."  
  
"Rubbish. You have a purpose. Didn't we discuss that this morning?" questioned Harry with a gleam in his eyes.  
  
"What was it? To love you?"  
  
"And be loved ... by me ... if you feel up to it."  
  
  
With surprising strength and speed, Gilderoy lifted Harry from the couch, grinning as he leaned down to kiss him quickly on the lips. That was his answer as he carried Harry into the bedroom and lovingly deposited him on the bed. Gilderoy was the perfect blend of experience and inexperience, Harry realized, pulling him into a passionate kiss. His body remembered so many of the things his mind could not, the touches and the caresses and the warmth of holding another close, and yet in his eyes there was a wonderful, refreshing naiveté and curiosity, like it was his first time falling in love, his first time at everything. It was all new to him, and wonderful.  
  
Harry opened his mouth, allowing Gilderoy to slip his tongue in, stifling a moan as he did so. Harry could still taste a little bit of mint tea on his breath. He closed his eyes as Gilderoy began fumbling with his robes, pushing them up and out of the way. Harry took the hint and began unbuttoning every button or clasp his searching hands came across in an attempt to speed up his efforts. They were lying in a pile of clothing only moments later, hardly breaking the kiss for even an instant as they undressed, moaning instructions to each other when necessary.  
  
Gilderoy pulled away at long last and stroked Harry's face, breathing heavily. His breath was warm, hot, and ragged. There was desire there and in his eyes.  
  
  
For Harry it had been mind-blowing. He had no doubt that Gilderoy's experience was far more vast and comprehensive than even that of Fred Weasley. He felt a twinge of regret on Gilderoy's behalf. The man could not, after all, remember the good times he had had. Harry was still imagining all the men his lover had romanced, not jealous, but curious, long after Gilderoy had fallen asleep with his head on Harry's chest and the blankets pulled up around them. It was unfortunate to have lost so much, Harry believed. He was no longer in love with anyone but Gilderoy, yet he would be heartbroken if he could not remember the fun he had had with Fred or any of the Ravenclaws he had romanced.  
  
"To have lost so much ..." Harry thought, a twinge of sadness intruding upon his sleepy euphoria. "He says he doesn't want it back, but that seems impossible."  
  
By the time sleep had finally overtaken him, carrying him away into blissful dreams, Harry had decided that he was going to do everything in his power to heal the injured mind of his beloved.  
  
"I'll get his wand back ... and Hermione will help me come up with a novel approach to undoing the charm ... I know she will be able to crack this one. And then ... everything will be ... wonderful ... forever ... for both of us." he thought dreamily, a smile coming to his face as he nodded off.  
  
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A/N: I know. Another chapter with a fluffy, rose-colored ending. *shuffles feet guiltily and then runs away*  
  
InchySquinchy: Thank you for the very kind review!  
  
shadowycat: Can't they have a little fun before everything goes pear shaped? Hmm? Oh, trust me, the whole story isn't going to be fluffy and happy. How can it be? And I've always though that 'healthy relationship' was an oxymoron. So ... Portends of things to come, huh? Just give me a couple of chapters. Thanks for both reviews.  
  
Michelle: Gilderoy is so fragile, isn't he? Don't worry, I don't think they will have to really face that issue in the near future. Thanks a bunch for reviewing!  
  
  
  



	7. On the subject of family and Sirius Blac

Chapter Seven  
  
On the subject of family and Sirius Black  
  
  
Early the following morning, having remembered his resolve to cure Gilderoy of his magical amnesia, Harry crept from bed, tossed on some clothes, and went to find Hedwig to send a couple of letters. The first was a request to the Ministry of Magic on Gilderoy's behalf in order to get his wand back. He knew that Percy would probably be willing to put a rush on the request for him and for old times' sake. That particular Weasley would never break a rule for anyone, but he could push paper with the best of them. The second letter was to Hermione on the subject of undoing or reversing a memory charm. He knew that the wizards and witches of St. Mungo's had tried and failed, but Harry had a special sort of faith in his dear friend Hermione. She had solved many problems during their school years, some more daunting and some more hopeless than this. And he knew that she would be only too glad to help.  
  
Harry watched Hedwig wing her way out the window and across the open fields outside and knew that the only thing left to do was wait and enjoy the waiting with Gilderoy, whom he could hear yawning in the bedroom.  
  
  
"Harry, I know this is going to sound like a strange question," Gilderoy prefaced as they ate breakfast after having a brief shower together, "while I was in the hospital, some of the mediwitches talked about their families, their children, their parents, brothers and sisters." Harry, his mouth full of egg, motioned for him to continue, wondering where the inquiry would lead. "Do you have any family, Harry?" he asked.  
  
Harry nearly choked on his eggs, but when he recovered, he answered simply, "Not really." And tried to hide the anguish in his eyes.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"My mum and dad were killed by Voldemort. I was an only child. I have some distant muggle, non-magical, relations, but we are not on speaking terms. Wretched, horrible people. Hate anyone and everyone who is the least bit different than them." Harry explained. Then he paused. "I do have a godfather though. And ... I love him dearly. He had a bad time of it, so he's not around so much these days."  
  
"Tell me about him then." said Gilderoy. Harry frowned. "Harry, I know so little about you. I know you love Quidditch and that you must be quite good at it. I know you are very devoted to your friends. I know that you're an important person. But, Harry, really ... I don't know very much about anything, but I feel like I know the least about the man I love."  
  
Harry smiled and reached across the table to squeeze his hand before telling him, "Well, when you put it that way, I just can't refuse." He sipped his orange juice and sighed. "Sirius Black. That's my godfather's name. Sirius was my father's best friend. He was in prison for a long time. Twelve years, I believe, for a crime he didn't commit."  
  
"Twice as long as I was at the hospital." Gilderoy interjected. "Poor man."  
  
"Yeah. Then he escaped to try and prove his innocence and look out for me."  
  
"Brave." commented Gilderoy.  
  
"He was a Gryffindor." Harry shrugged. "Sirius went through a lot. Years of hiding that only ended last year when Voldemort was destroyed and Peter Pettigrew was captured. Pettigrew had framed Sirius. Now Sirius lives in London. We write from time to time, but ... it hasn't been easy for him. Most of his friends are dead and gone, and he had a terrible time of it himself, of course ."  
  
"Why isn't he here with you then?"  
  
"Sirius wanted to help me in my final duel, but ... because of the Ministry of Magic being after him, he wasn't able to make it in time. The battle was a close one. I wasn't exactly in peek condition afterward. He blamed himself. Sirius carries the burdens of the world sometimes. I invited him to stay here, but he wouldn't come."  
  
"Are you his only family too?"  
  
"I think I might be. His family disowned him when he went to prison ... and his parents died while he was on the inside. I don't know of any siblings, but his closest friend still teaches at Hogwarts. Remus Lupin, who got your job incidentally, goes to visit him every other weekend, but ... Remus says that the years in Azkaban changed Sirius a lot more than we realized during the war." said Harry with a heavy sigh. "It's sad really. The whole world celebrates and Sirius Black crawls into a basement apartment to waste away."  
  
"Can't you fix it, Harry?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"I tried, but ... the war, the years of fear, the years of prison ... I don't think anyone could fix that. Remus says that they were lovers once, but could never quite trust each other. He thought Sirius was going over to the other side and vice versa. It takes more than a little passion for a relationship to work." said Harry with a smile.  
  
"A lot of passion then?"  
  
"And trust, honesty, and ... maybe something of a miracle. But I think the ability to trust one another is the most important thing. Not that I'm knocking passion." chuckled Harry.  
  
"Do we have that?"  
  
"I think we're getting there, Gilderoy."  
  
  
As they finished their breakfast, Gilderoy posed another question: "Harry, do you suppose I have any family?"  
  
"I don't know. One would think that ..." he began to say, pausing when he realized how hard Gilderoy might take the statement, "if you had any family they would have visited you in the hospital at the least." Harry chose not to say it.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I was raised by muggles. I still don't know as much about the great wizarding houses as I should, so I can't say for sure whether or not you have any family left."  
  
Gilderoy looked a little dispirited as he began clearing the table.  
  
"It's not that I need to know or anything, but sometimes I just wonder if I have any connection with anyone out there. Am I alone?"  
  
"You are never alone, Gilderoy. I will always be with you." said Harry. Gilderoy smiled and tears filled his eyes. "None of that." Harry warned, putting an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"Sorry." he sniffed.  
  
"Tell you what, this afternoon we can go to the archives in London and check the thing there ... the ancestral rolls of the wizarding houses." said Harry, recalling Draco Malfoy once making mention of the document in very haughty tones. According to what Harry knew, it contained the family trees of all the magical families of England and was very up to date.  
  
"And that will help me find out about my family?"  
  
"I can almost guarantee it." said Harry with a smile. Something told him that Gilderoy wasn't likely to have been muggle-born.  
  
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A/N: I'm thinking that Lockhart was probably from an old wizarding family, what with his weird name and all. I loaned out my copy of CoS, so if his origins were mentioned there ... I can't check. Erg!  
  
shadowycat: Harry hears him; he just isn't listening properly. But nice point. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
InchySquinchy: Thank you for the compliment. Obsession? What a nice word! Always good to hear.  
  
Kimdalia: High praise indeed! I started reading slash (Severus/ Lucius and Sirius/ Remus) just a few months ago myself. Writing slash has been a real experiment for me. I am glad that you like better Gilderoy now. Thanks for the review!  
  
  
  
  



	8. Hufflepuff heart

Chapter Eight  
  
Hufflepuff heart  
  
  
The archives, being on the floo network, were quite easily accessible. Larger than the library at Hogwarts and containing a collection of books, scrolls, parchment, and stone tablets spanning approximately sixteen centuries, the Merlin Memorial Library and Archives was among the most impressive sources of wizarding knowledge in the world. Harry had had the opportunity to tour the facility with Hermione during the summer before his seventh year, and it was here that they found spells and charms with which to arm themselves for the coming conflict. Hidden deep within the confines of wizarding London, the interior of the structure, a great dome that protruded from the earth, was lined with unending shelves that were full of the collective knowledge and wisdom of wizarding kind.  
  
"Harry, I dare say, one could get lost in a place like this." Gilderoy whispered, taking Harry's proffered hand as they emerged from a large hearth in a back room near the librarian's desk.  
  
"Can I help you, dears?" asked the librarian, an older woman with little spectacles and a polite smile, as she watched them crane their necks to look around at the marvelous sight.  
  
"Um, yes, I think we could use some help." said Harry with a nervous smile. "We need to look at the ancestral rolls." he added.  
  
"Oh, dear, I was hoping you just wanted a book ..." she said, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose above her glasses.  
  
"Is there a problem?" asked Harry.  
  
"No, I suppose not." she said, removing a wand from her robes. She pointed it toward the apex of the dome and said, "_Accitus origo volumen videre_ !"  
  
Harry and Gilderoy turned and watched as a gigantic scroll appeared and unrolled itself, hanging from the very top of the great dome to the floor, falling like a papery curtain that was covered over with beautiful script, designs, and family crests. It was a tremendous family tree. Leaves, branches, a trunk that split in hundreds of directions blossomed forth from the parchment. Harry blinked, wondering if his eyes deceived him. As the tremendous scroll gracefully touched the floor, the tree took root. The thing before them became a combination of a document, written upon the large, white leaves of the tree, and a living plant that had sprung from the paper.  
  
"Well, there you are. Have a nice climb, but do be careful. If you are looking for remote ancestors, it could be a nasty fall ..." the librarian warned.  
  
"Thank you very much!" said Harry, tugging Gilderoy toward it by the hand.  
  
"This is very strange." commented Gilderoy, gazing up through the branches with an open mouth.  
  
"I can't disagree." said Harry, touching the bark of the tree. A rope ladder fell down next to him. "I was only expecting a long piece of paper or something."  
  
"So are we going up?"  
  
"Suppose so." shrugged Harry, grabbing a rung on the ladder and hoisting himself up. "Try not to look down."  
  
Afraid of floos was he not, but Gilderoy gulped silently at the thought of climbing the immense magical family tree.  
  
"Why must they be so literal about this family tree business?" he wondered uneasily, following Harry clumsily up the ladder.   
  
Harry was already sitting on one of the lower branches, swinging his legs and waiting patiently when Gilderoy managed, pale faced and sweating, to clamber onto the same branch.  
  
"I don't know if I can do this." said Gilderoy, clutching the thick branch with both hands.  
  
"I won't try to force you, but maybe if you thought of this as an adventure ..." Harry told him, remembering that Professor Lockhart had never been very brave.  
  
"Just let me sit here and rest for a moment. Calm my nerves." said Gilderoy.  
  
Harry glanced at the limb where they were seated. Written in bright silver against the dark gray color of the bark was the word 'Longbottom'.  
  
"Fancy that! This must be Neville's family." Harry thought, glancing at the names on nearby leaves. Neville. Frank. Helen. Margot. Andrew. Classmate. Parents. Grandparents. Many more names. Harry squinted and realized that he could even tell what houses they had been in: three Gryffindors and two Hufflepuffs.  
  
He looked at the branches overhead, some larger and some smaller than the one upon which they rested, and saw familiar names: Patil, Wood, Weasley, and McGonagall. A tiny shoot from the Weasley branch was marked Granger, its single leaf belonging to Hermione, Ron's wife. There were unfamiliar names too, though it was easy to see that this side of the tree contained houses that were mostly Gryffindor, a testimony to ties forged during school years. Some of the branches were so intertwined, the fates of families so neatly interwoven, it was difficult to separate them.   
  
Harry craned his neck to look more closely at one such collection of branches. One marked with the name Potter seemed to be the center of the cluster. A strong and hardy branch it was with lithesome limbs reaching out to many a Gryffindor family. Another branch ran closely to it: Black. This branch seemed to split, however, bridging the gap between the Gryffindor and Slytherin clusters. Few limbs grew in this manner, it seemed. A green bough with a few sparse leaves and Evans written upon it grew out from the Potter branch, proving that though of mixed and diluted blood, Lily Evans Potter had not been the _only _witch in her family.  
  
Harry slowly rose to his feet to get a better look. He could see his parents' names, if he squinted, and that of his godfather Sirius, who appeared to be a distant relation by marriage as well, and his very own leaf upon the tree, surrounded by others, almost as though protected, by the many other leaves around it: James, Lily, Sirius, and other names he did not know, his paternal grandparents. A long, lithe branch was reaching down, its movement slow, but almost perceptible, toward his own: Lockhart. It was too high to see very clearly and obscured by other branches.  
  
Harry felt a sudden lump in his throat as he realized that the reason the Lockhart limb was very slowly bending toward his own was that the tree recognized the bond between Gilderoy and himself. Fresh as it was, the magical tree was already a living record of what they had together. And the tree seemed to indicate that what they had, that their love could or would be a permanent one.  
  
"I think I found it, Gilderoy." Harry told him, clearing his throat and steadying himself on Gilderoy's shoulder.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Up there. Can you see it?"  
  
Gilderoy lifted his head and watched Harry point to the branch, and he smiled as he read its name.  
  
"I see it, Harry! I see it!" he said, clambering to his feet.  
  
"Ready to climb now?"  
  
"Certainly." he said, breathless and a little unsteady on his feet.  
  
  
The climb was not an easy one. The tree had many boughs and limbs, some that could Harry's weight and more, like the sturdy Longbottom and Weasley branches, and some, like the Patil and Wood branches, that Harry was afraid to try. What would happen if, for instance, he snapped a branch off or bruised the bark? It might not be pretty. And neither he nor Gilderoy wanted to think about the fall. The floor below looked so distant, so far away that even Harry, quite accustomed to heights, was thinking about broken necks.  
  
It was a long time before Harry managed to pull himself up onto the Potter branch and even longer before he convinced Gilderoy to accept a hand up. When they finally found themselves seated near the leaf cluster with Harry's immediate family's names written upon them, they were both panting for breath and Harry was certain that he had pulled something.  
  
"I don't even want to think about the climb down." commented Gilderoy.  
  
"Then think about up some more." said Harry, turning his attention toward the part of the tree they had come to inspect.  
  
The Lockhart branch, Harry noticed immediately, was very slender, a family of many only children, a family where there was often only a single heir to the name. He traced a few of its trailing branches only to find that Gilderoy appeared to be the last of his line. He looked at the names of his parents: Celeste Diggory and Godfrey Lockhart. Harry felt a stab of pain, of renewed grief and old guilt, at the sight of Gilderoy's mother's unmarried name, unconsciously tracing that line until he found the name Cedric. Harry looked at Gilderoy's features and could see something of the young Hufflepuff in them. He blinked away a few tears before returning his eyes to the Lockhart names. Gilderoy, it seemed, was the descendant of an unlikely combination: a Hufflepuff mother and a Slytherin father. And Gilderoy himself had been a ... Hufflepuff. Harry breathed an audible sigh of relief.  
  
"What does it say, Harry? I'm afraid I can't quite figure it out." said Gilderoy.  
  
"You were in Hufflepuff House in school at Hogwarts. So was your mother Celeste. Your father Godfrey was a ... in a different house."  
  
"And? And? Are they still alive?" Gilderoy questioned excitedly.  
  
Harry squeezed his shoulder as he read the two dates beneath each of their names and said simply, "Sorry, but no."  
  
"Are any of them alive?" he asked.  
  
Harry studied the few branches, including the one linking the Lockharts and the Diggorys, before answering, "You have a few cousins on your mother's side. Amos ... Amos Diggory is about your age, I believe. Possibly a little older."  
  
"Do you know him?"  
  
"I knew ... his son." said Harry, indicating the leaf with Cedric's name on it and wiping his eyes.  
  
"Dead?" asked Gilderoy, sensing the grief that had washed over Harry and putting a gentle arm around him.  
  
"Yeah ... because of me." Harry whispered.  
  
"What happened? What was he like? Or ... or is it something you don't want to talk about?" It was an innocent, hesitant question.  
  
"He was a great Quidditch player, a hard worker, fair minded, handsome and strong, braver than any Hufflepuff has a right to be. Probably the bravest one ever born. I can't see why he wasn't a Gryffindor. Maybe because he was so caring or so patient. I don't know. Voldemort's minions ... killed him because of me. He never even had the chance to graduate from Hogwarts ... or marry Cho Chang." said Harry, tears trickling down his face as Gilderoy held him in his arms.  
  
"Harry, I don't believe for a moment that it was your fault somebody else killed him." said Gilderoy, kissing his forehead. "That's just nonsense."  
  
Harry looked into his eyes and saw that Gilderoy wasn't just saying what he thought he wanted to hear. He honestly held Harry blameless. For a moment Harry smiled through his tears. Whatever his father may have been, a Slytherin to be precise, Gilderoy must have lived out that destiny, one of betrayal and scheming, and was, though he did not remember it, a pure, strong, and caring Hufflepuff to his very heart and soul.  
  
"You know, they put you in the right house. Six years ago, I would have had a hard time believing it, but, Gilderoy, the Sorting Hat was certainly right about you." he sniffed, kissing him softly on the lips.  
  
"If you say so." he replied with an ingenuous smile. "I suppose you really are my only family, Harry." he said, looking sadly at their names upon the wizarding family tree. "And my only regrets are that I will never have a chance to know my parents and introduce you to them."  
  
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A/N: I think I should point out that I am terrible at making up spells and that an English to Latin online dictionary is no substitute for language skills.  
  
Michelle: Sorry to disappoint. An uptight mother for Gilderoy actually might have been a good bit more fun ... Thanks for the review!  
  
shadowycat: Sirius Black will be making an appearance in a few chapters (I think). Being a fan of the Sirius/Remus ship, I think perhaps both will be in it later. I can really see Sirius having a bad initial reaction to Gilderoy. And vice versa. But I don't want to spoil anything! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
  



	9. What ever became of Godfrey and Celeste?

Chapter Nine  
  
What ever became of Godfrey and Celeste?  
  
  
  
They spent a long time at the archives that day. Gilderoy looked through several illustrated histories of wizarding Britain while Harry did a bit of research on the subject of Celeste and Godfrey Lockhart. The ancestral roll had not included information like how long they were married or how they had died. Gilderoy wasn't asking for the information, but Harry assumed that one day it would occur to him to ask such things and he wanted to be able to answer the questions without pulling another muscle. His back was still killing him, and the climb down had not helped.  
  
So while Gilderoy stared at moving pictures, more drawings than photographs, of the Goblin Rebellions, Harry sat immersed in an expansive tome of modern wizarding family histories, volume twenty-one Lock- through Lode- in search of the story of the Lockharts who had been Gilderoy's parents. And he found them ...  
  
"_Celeste and Godfrey Lockhart were found murdered this morning in their Yorkshire residence, Lockhart Manor. The cause of death appears to have been torture, by means of the banned Cruciatus Curse, followed by what investigators believe to be Avada Kedavra, the unforgivable killing curse. This has led the Ministry to conclude that the Lockharts were targeted by Dark Wizards, almost certainly followers of a ruthless Dark Wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort, making this the seventh attack in as many month.  
  
"Mister Godfrey Lockhart, an outspoken advocate for muggle-born scholars of magic, though from a pureblooded family himself, was a valued bureau director for the Ministry of Magic, serving in the Office of Magical Safety for sixteen years. His wife Celeste Diggory Lockhart worked as an Auror for the Ministry until the birth of the couple's first and only child and was well respected by the wizarding community at large for her many daring arrests, including that of three infamous Dark Wizards just five years ago. Their loss is one that will be felt by the community for many years to come.  
  
"The Lockharts are survived by their four-year-old son, Gilderoy Lockhart, who has been taken into the custody of the Ministry of Magic until a suitable home may be found for him. Young Gilderoy was present at the time of his parents' tragic deaths, but managed to evade detection by the Dark Wizards who perpetrated this crime, although it is at this time uncertain how he accomplished this._"  
  
Harry wasn't certain at first who Gilderoy, from the picture painted of his parents, reminded him of more: Neville Longbottom or himself. His parents had been heroes, two of the earliest fighters against Voldemort, and apparently Gilderoy had been practically scared squib, traumatized, by their murders, as Harry had long believed Neville had been by the attack on his family.   
He watched Gilderoy flipping the pages of yet another illustrated history, a childish smile on his face, and was momentarily overwhelmed. They were both orphans, robbed by the forces of darkness, and fate, often unkindly and pitiless, had thrown them together, given them each other perhaps in some attempt to heal their pasts.  
  
"And to think I thought ill of his father for being a Slytherin. I must remember not to be too quick to judge. Not everyone uses their ambition for evil ends." Harry thought, closing the tome.  
  
At that moment Gilderoy looked up from his book, still smiling and asked, "Ready to go, Harry?"  
  
"Absolutely." said Harry, managing a trembling half-smile.   
  
He felt pale. He hoped he didn't look it, because Gilderoy would ask questions and Harry just knew that he couldn't easily handle discussing what he had learned with him. Gilderoy deserved to know, but hopefully not until he had a chance to digest everything he had discovered.  
  
  
They left the archives and found their way to a small restaurant to have a late luncheon or early supper. Harry wasn't certain exactly which. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Gilderoy's family and his own. His wished in vain to know of Gilderoy's upbringing following the murder of his parents, but such things were not recorded in historical or genealogical texts. Had he been raised by the Diggorys? Was he sent to an orphanage? How was it that he came to grow up to be such the miserable fraud and failure as a wizard that had taught him Defense Against the Dark Arts? Cunning, and yet silly. Ambitious, and yet quite stupid. It was almost like seeing two different people, three counting the man he had fallen for. The entire matter was quite confusing.  
  
"Harry, aren't you going to eat something?" asked Gilderoy, rousing him from his thoughts. He had been pushing the food on his plate around absently with his fork.  
  
"Hmm? Oh, of course." Harry replied.  
  
"I've been thinking too." said Gilderoy. Harry's head snapped up as he gave his companion his full attention, not to mention a surprised look. "Really, Harry!" Gilderoy pouted.  
  
"Sorry. Go on."  
  
"My parents both died on the same day, didn't they?"  
  
Harry winced and said, "Yeah."  
  
"What do you suppose happened? One would think that it was some kind of tragic accident. If it had been an illness, surely it couldn't have gotten them both at the same time, right?"  
  
"Gilderoy, are you sure you want to know? You might be happier not knowing." said Harry.  
  
A sudden realization hit Gilderoy, "That's what you were looking up in all those books!" Harry nodded mutely. "You weren't going to tell me?" he asked, stiffening.  
  
"Not today, but eventually."  
  
Gilderoy relaxed and nodded, understanding Harry's desire to protect him.  
  
"Were they ... killed or something then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Like your parents were?"  
  
"The ... incidents ... are strikingly similar."  
  
"Murdered then."  
  
"Yes, by the same sort of dark wizards too."  
  
Silence washed over them as they stared down at their plates of half eaten food. Harry wished that he hadn't told him, but he had been lied to as a child, believing that his own parents had died a car crash. If he had lied to Gilderoy, he would have been no better than his aunt and uncle. The truth had to be told. It was as simple as that. But it felt rotten.  
  
"Harry?" asked Gilderoy after a few moments.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why? Why were they killed?" His voice was quavering slightly.  
  
"Because your parents were brave, because they stood up for and fought for what they believed in during dark times."  
  
"Were they heroes? Like your parents were?"  
  
"I think so." said Harry, finally looking up. The sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable.  
  
Gilderoy's eyes were shining with tears as he said, "It's nice to know, Harry. Really, it is."  
  
Harry reached across the table and squeezed his hand. At last he felt as though he had done the right thing.  
  
  
It was late in the evening when the pair returned to the cottage. The stars were just beginning to twinkle on the darkening horizon as they bundled up and stepped outside to watch the last rays of a beautiful sunset. The air was brisk, and the sky was clear, save for a few wisps of purple clouds. It was a lovely sight. The solitude of the countryside around them, vacant for miles, made Harry and Gilderoy feel as though they were the only living beings in all of existence and draw closer to one another because of it.  
  
"You make me feel safe." commented Gilderoy, whispering into Harry's ear.  
  
"And you make me feel lucky." said Harry, turning to kiss his cheek.  
  
"I can't thank you enough ..."  
  
"Then don't try. Everything I do, I do because I want to, because I ... I love you." Harry said, managing to say the words. They didn't come easily. And even as he said them, Harry wondered whether they would prove true, whether what they had together was love or desperation, the longing for companionship in any form it might take.  
  
"And I love you." said Gilderoy, the words coming to his lips with far greater ease, and possibly greater sincerity.  
  
They stood there together until the growing darkness began to envelope them and the breeze became too chilly.  
  
"Let's go inside and sit by the fire side for a bit." said Harry, tugging Gilderoy along by the sleeve.  
  
  
Harry saw to it that a fire was lit in the hearth as soon as they were inside, collapsing together on the couch. Harry smiled to himself as he realized how peaceful and domestic they looked together. He was beginning to doze in fact when he heard a quiet hoot from the far corner of the room. Hedwig had returned from delivering mail and had let herself in during their absence. Harry glanced at Gilderoy to find that he was already asleep. He chuckled as he untangled himself, lightly kissing Gilderoy's brow as he went to see what the owl wanted.  
  
A small box was setting near Hedwig's perch. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he realized that it had a Ministry of Magic seal upon it. Percy had come through in record time.   
  
Harry opened the box to check its contents and was quite surprised to find that the box not only contained a wand, sturdy and polished rosewood and about twelve inches long, but a tiny key that he recognized as belonging to a Gringott's vault and a ring of slightly larger keys. Harry shivered as he realized what they belonged to: Lockhart Manor. These must have been in Gilderoy's pockets when he was admitted to the hospital.  
  
"Lockhart Manor." Harry whispered, returning the items to the box. Even after reading the article on Gilderoy's parents, he had not given the manor a second thought. Was that where Gilderoy had been living prior to teaching at Hogwarts or had it been deserted for years, he wondered.  
  
"Harry? Did you say something?" asked Gilderoy sleepily, stirring on the couch. Harry glanced over at him to see Gilderoy crane his neck to see what he was doing.  
  
"You got a package." said Harry, trying to smile as he joined him before the fireplace again.  
  
"Really? What is it?" he questioned.  
  
Harry placed it on his lap and said, "Open it and see."  
  
Gilderoy opened the box and stared blankly at the things inside for a moment before slowly, reverently removing the wand.  
  
"I told you that it was wooden." he said absently, touching the smooth wand, which was in perfect condition despite the years of disuse. "Thank you, Harry." he whispered.  
  
"I do expect you to learn how to use it properly this time." said Harry with a chuckle.  
  
"I intend to do just that, with your help, of course."  
  
"Of course. Lessons start tomorrow."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"I have the time."  
  
"Thanks, Harry."  
  
"Stop you're making me blush." laughed Harry. "What about the other things in there?" he questioned, pointing at the box.  
  
Gilderoy reflexively slipped his wand into his left robe pocket before lifting the keys from the box.  
  
"What are they?"  
  
"Keys." said Harry.  
  
"I know that, but to what?"  
  
"The little one goes to a vault at the wizards' bank of Gringott's. The rest are probably your house keys."  
  
Gilderoy looked at him with an expression of utter confusion as he asked, "I have a vault and a house?"  
  
"Yes, I believe so. Do you have any memory of a place called Lockhart Manor?"  
  
"No, of course not." said Gilderoy, frowning.  
  
"I think it's a place we might want to visit when you feel up to it."  
  
"But, Harry, I don't know ..."  
  
"There might be pictures of your parents there. Things from your childhood. Think on it a while, Gilderoy. I won't pressure you to go." said Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I know. And I will think about it." Gilderoy said, returning the keys to the box. "Can you keep up with these for me until then?" he asked.  
  
"Of course." said Harry with a nod.  
  
Rising to his feet, he winced, rubbing his lower back and suddenly feeling as old, no, older than Gilderoy.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"I think I pulled something climbing that deuced tree." Harry told him, placing the box on the mantel.  
  
"Can I do anything?"  
  
"You wouldn't mind terribly giving me a back rub?" he asked.  
  
"I think I could manage that." said Gilderoy, smiling.  
  
  
Harry had to admit that Gilderoy was full of surprises and that the man certainly knew what it to do with his hands. He had to wonder, as sleepiness and contented relief began to wash over him like a rising tide, how often Gilderoy had given massages in his previous life before he lost his memory. Part of him had believed that the man had been too selfish and self-centered to do anything for anyone else. As Gilderoy's hands rubbed away the ache and soreness with exceptional ease, Harry had to admit that he was wrong. The skill could simply have been a natural gift, but the smooth, gliding strokes felt a bit too practiced, too perfect.  
  
"Is that any better, Harry?" Gilderoy asked quietly.  
  
Harry made a sleepy, indistinct sound and a pleased grin spread over Gilderoy's features. When he was certain that Harry was asleep, he undressed, doused the lights, and crawled into bed, feeling strangely satisfied by the simple act of giving his young lover a back rub. He flexed his hands as he pulled the covers around Harry and himself and wondered briefly if that were something that he had done before. That was a lifetime ago, or was it? He could quite decide and shrugged away the questions that had popped into his head.  
  
And yet as he lay awake in the dark for sometime after that, he was troubled and did not know why. There was a sudden and peculiar sense of loss, of grief long forgotten and newly remembered, that did not allow sleep to come easily to him. The feelings brought dark images to his mind that were difficult to brush away. Memories from his days of bleak and unhappy internment in the hospital, recalled for the first time since Harry had rescued him.  
  
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A/N: I know, enough about the Lockharts already. But I know his family history stuff will be kind of important later. I think.  
  
Michelle: Wow. Thanks for the Sirius insight. I appreciate that. I'm still working on bringing him into this. Sirius is really tough to write, so that's slowing me down a little here. Thanks for the review!  
  
Catspook: *grins* I can see that you think a little bit like I do, at least about Harry and Slytherins. Of course, he had a lot of really great Slytherin role models to change his mind about them, right? Oh, well. And sometimes it takes time to realize that a square is rectangle, but a rectangle isn't necessarily a square. I tell my friends that all the time and they hate me for it. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
shadowycat: I thought about using a levitation charm, but I don't think Gilderoy would have liked that. I think Remus willing be coming into it sometime later, proabably after Sirius. I really like him too. I wish Remus was in more than just one of the books. Thank you for the review!  
  
  
  
  



	10. Screams in the night

Chapter Ten  
  
Screams in the night  
  
  
  
The sound of screaming awakened Harry, and for an instant he was incredibly confused and his heart was beating like mad. He struggled to free himself from the blankets on his bed as he realized the frightened cries had come from beside him. Gilderoy, he remembered. Tossing aside the covers, he found his lover twisting and turning in a nightmare, his skin covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. He cried out again and did not awaken. Harry grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him hard.  
  
"Gilderoy! Gilderoy! Wake up!" he yelled.   
  
Harry's stomach tightened as Gilderoy convulsively fought him, unaware of anything but the internal world of his nightmares. A wayward fist connected with Harry's stomach as he leaned over Gilderoy, knocking the breath out of him. Harry toppled to the floor and stayed there for a moment as he saw stars. The errant punch had been a strong one.  
  
"Gilderoy?" he coughed, dragging himself up from the floor.  
  
A whimpered cry escaped his lips as he thrashed about on the bed. One of the nearby windows cracked. Harry felt his own panic rising as he reached and caught both of Gilderoy's arms. The last thing they needed was for things to begin exploding.   
  
His eyes were open, but vacant and staring, completely unaware. His damp, golden hair clung to his face. Harry shook him again as he struggled against an unseen enemy.  
  
"Gilderoy? Can you hear me? Gilderoy, it's Harry! Please!" he said, pleading with him and shaking him by the arms.  
  
The almost convulsive thrashing began to lessen. Harry released his arms and cautiously sat down on the edge of the bed. Gilderoy's head lolled to the side. The nightmare was coming to an end. Then Gilderoy made a choking sound. Harry instinctively rolled him onto his side as he gagged.  
  
"Harry?" he choked, becoming violently ill.  
  
"I'm here. You're okay. It's over." he reassured him, cautiously stroking Gilderoy's hair until the illness ended.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ... throw up like that." Gilderoy coughed, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks.  
  
"Don't even think of it. Just a flick of the wand will fix it. It's you I'm worried about." said Harry. He slipped an arm behind Gilderoy as he sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side. "Would a shower help? Some nice cool water on your face?" Gilderoy nodded without making a sound. "Let's get you cleaned up then." said Harry, helping him to his feet. He was more than a bit unsteady.  
  
"I was having a nightmare." sniffed Gilderoy as Harry pushed him into the shower and turned on the water.  
  
"I know, and you don't do anything by halves."  
  
Watching Gilderoy through the glass, it was easy to see that he wasn't up to talking about it yet. He leaned against the wall beneath the shower head and let the water rush over him. His expression was one of fear, confusion, and shame. He stood there for a long time before the look in his eyes returned to normal.  
  
"Harry, can I go back to bed now?" he questioned.  
  
"Just a few more minutes ... while I straighten everything up." said Harry, finally feeling okay about leaving him.  
  
Harry's hands were shaking as he cast a cleaning spell on the linens and rearranged the blankets and so forth, smoothing the sheets with his hands to steady himself. The incident had caught him entirely off-guard. He knew that Gilderoy was still hurting emotionally and would probably never fully recover, but he had not anticipated Gilderoy having what could almost be considered a violent, nightmare-induced flash-back. It had terrified Harry.  
  
"Maybe if I hadn't grabbed him ... or touched him." Harry thought guiltily, trying in vain to understand what had just happened. "Maybe I should just have let him have his nightmare and wake up on his own. But how does anyone know what to do in these situations?"  
  
"Harry?" called a timorous voice from the bathroom.  
  
He turned to see Gilderoy standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Are you angry?"  
  
"No, of course not. You couldn't help it, Gilderoy. You just scared me. That's all." said Harry with a smile. He held out his arms, but Gilderoy hesitated.  
  
"I can't. Not now." he said, lowering his eyes to the floor. He was still shaking, though he appeared calm.  
  
"I understand. Do you want to sleep in the other room?"  
  
"No, I don't want to be alone."  
  
"All right." said Harry, climbing back into bed, but staying on the side where he usually slept. Gilderoy seemed to relax as he did the same.  
  
  
Harry stayed in bed until he was certain that Gilderoy was asleep again and then carefully stole out of the bedroom and into the parlor where the magical fire was still crackling softly in the fireplace. He poured himself a glass of wine for his fraying nerves and sat down on the couch. Hedwig, a nocturnal creature, had been greatly disturbed by the earlier ruckus and quickly flew to perch near Harry, giving him quizzical and worried looks until he gently ruffled her feathers and shook his head. He was uncertain about what to do now. He needed some advice. He had thought at first that he could help Gilderoy deal with what had happened in the hospital. It had seemed so simple. Love and understanding, he had thought, would help the healing process along, and he had tried to provide those things as well as he knew how. He had never considered for a moment that these things might not be sufficient.  
  
Harry found some parchment and a quill, knowing that he had only one person whom he could trust to give him advice in such matters, only one person who had a tread a road as hard as Gilderoy's and who would never break his confidence or truly let him down.  
  
"_Dear Sirius, I know you will find it hard to believe, but you are still my first choice as an advisor and friend in a crisis. In matters of love and the unbearable agonies found therein, I can think of no other person so well acquainted with those particular experiences and with pain itself. I have recently taken another lover, which in and of itself you will no doubt find pleasing. I really do believe that I love him, though our time together has been very short. So why, I know you would ask, do I require advice from you?_  
  
"_He has come to me wounded, I dare say, to his very soul, and I know not what may be done for him. I know that Remus and you __were once lovers, long ago. Knowing something of his life, I can only imagine the pain that you dealt with when you loved him. If you learned anything that might help me, I beg of you to pass that knowledge on. For as much as I do treasure and even love Gilderoy, I cannot on my own see what may be done for him. Your godson, Harry._"  
  
Harry paused and sighed softly before deciding to add a post script:  
  
"_Sirius, he has also made me think a great deal about family, a precious thing that none of the three of us possess in great quantity. He is utterly alone, save only for me, if I may already consider myself his family. And I have only the two of you to count as my family. It would please both of us if you would lay aside your guilt and visit us at the Little Burrow. I am in desperate need of guidance, as I have said before, and have no one else to look to in such matters._ "  
  
Harry carefully folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope before sending Hedwig on her way. He sipped his wine and noticed that his hands seemed steadier. Outside the sky was beginning to brighten with the coming dawn. Harry drained his glass and crept back to bed, very careful not to disturb Gilderoy.  
  
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A/N: Well, I said it wouldn't always be fluffy.   
  
shadowycat: Squib theory is very interesting. Everyone who writes on the topic has their own ideas, and I try to be original and not to borrow from others too much. I suppose that one possible answer is that stress and trauma early in life could cause the repression of magical abilities (which might be Neville's problem; something is obviously wrong with him). Of course, then there is the idea that in the books that children who aren't showing any abilities by a certain age can be scared into doing magic (Nevile again). This is a total non-answer, and I'm sorry about that. Anyhow, I think your other questions may have been answered in this chapter. Thank you for the reviewing and for your insightful questions!  
  
Michelle: The question of what will happen with Gilderoy's memory is a tough one. There are a lot of different questions that go along with that one: _ can_ he get his memory back, does he really want it back, and would he be the same person if he did get it back or would he still be the loveable idiot? I think I have the answer to some of those questions, but I don't want to give it away yet! And picturing Gilderoy in a wedding dress is funny. Kudos for the mental image. And thank you for the review!  
  
And sorry for taking so long. I had to go see LotR: TTT!   
  
  
  



	11. Meeting Sirius Black

Chapter Eleven  
  
Meeting Sirius Black  
  
  
  
Morning came and they showered and dressed separately. Gilderoy had become suddenly reclusive, and Harry was caught in the dilemma of to intrude or not to intrude. He cooked breakfast in silence while Gilderoy flipped through a first year charms book that they had purchased a few days earlier. Harry watched him silently sound out spell words with a knitted brow. He had promised Gilderoy lessons. Would he be up for them?  
  
Harry had been cooking for himself for months, since he had left Hogwarts and moved into the Little Burrow, and he had learned the fine art of preparing comfort food, which for him included chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, kippers, and strawberry milkshakes. He hoped that Gilderoy would understand the gesture.  
  
"I always make this when I'm feeling a bit depressed." Harry told him as he looked at the pancakes with an odd expression on his face.  
  
"It looks wonderful." said Gilderoy with a teary smile, putting his text book aside.  
  
"Thanks." said Harry, forking a couple of pieces of bacon onto his plate for him.  
  
"Harry?" he questioned. "Is everything ... I mean, you're not angry or anything? Or disappointed ... with me ... about last night?" Gilderoy asked anxiously.  
  
"Not angry, not disappointed. I swear." said Harry firmly. "And you? Are you feeling okay now?"  
  
"I think I'm all right. Or rather ... I think I will be. I just don't know when." said Gilderoy. Harry waited for him to elaborate, to explain his dreams perhaps, but Gilderoy did not do so.  
  
"I sent Hedwig out with a letter last night." Harry admitted after a few minutes of quiet eating. "I figured I needed some advice." he added. He was telling Gilderoy in order to avoid any surprises, such as a worried Sirius arriving by floo.  
  
"I think I can understand that." said Gilderoy, his lips twitching involuntarily into an amused smile. "You are very young to have so much ... responsibility, are you not?"  
  
"I suppose so." Harry agreed.  
  
"So did you send Hedwig to Hermione and her husband?" he questioned.  
  
"No, I didn't think they would be able to help. They are the same age as I am, after all."  
  
"Who then?"  
  
"Sirius."  
  
"Really? How exciting!" said Gilderoy, the last of the anxiety and emotional pallor falling away. Harry merely looked at him with a slightly bewildered expression. "Will I have the opportunity to meet him?" he asked.  
  
"He doesn't leave London, or his apartment actually, for just any reason ... But I think that maybe he will for this." said Harry, wincing as he thought about the panicked letter he had sent. In the light of day, looking into Gilderoy's eyes, which were no longer clouded by fear or shame, the situation seemed far less desperate.  
  
Gilderoy practically beamed before taking another bite of his breakfast.  
  
"But we still have time for magic lessons, right?" he questioned.  
  
"Chew then talk, Gilderoy. And, yes, of course we do." answered Harry.  
  
  
Harry couldn't help but to think about the cracked window in their bedroom while they finished breakfast. He would not have believed that Gilderoy was magical enough to do such obvious damage with wandless magic, even in his frightened and dreaming state. It had surprised him. After all, Gilderoy was practically a squib, wasn't he? He had never seen Gilderoy, during his time as a professor, perform magic that worked properly, not even once. Harry had to wonder Gilderoy would possibly have been a normal wizard if his parents had not been killed. Harry was thankful that he had been too young or too lucky to be so terribly traumatized by the attack on his parents and himself. Gilderoy, having lost that memory and possibly the trauma the went along with it, had perhaps gained the full use of his own magic again. If that proved to be true, it would be nothing short of a miracle.  
  
After breakfast was concluded, Harry read over the spells that Gilderoy had been trying to learn, which included a candle lighting charm and a warming charm. Harry winced for a moment as he realized that both choices could easily lend themselves to lighting things on fire. Gilderoy and fire had already proved to be a dangerous combination when dealing with the range. Skimming a few pages ahead, Harry found the levitation charm that he had learned as a first year and decided to begin with that.  
  
He found a few old quills, to replace the feathers that were suggested by the textbook, in a desk drawer and set them on the coffee table. Gilderoy was seated on the couch already with an excited and mildly idiotic grin on his face as he held his wand.  
  
"Right." said Harry, sighing and forcing himself not to imagine how this could go wrong. "I thought we should begin with the same charm that I began with." Harry told him.  
  
"Splendid!" nodded Gilderoy, taking a firm grip on his wand.  
  
Harry was relieved to see that his hand still remembered how to hold the instrument.  
  
"Do this." said Harry, remembering Professor Flitwick teaching him to swish-and-flick. He demonstrated the motion and nodded for Gilderoy to try it.  
  
"Like this?" asked Gilderoy, whipping his wand through the air.  
  
"Gently." Harry instructed.  
  
His second attempt was somewhat better, the motion more fluid and graceful. Harry smiled approvingly.  
  
"Better?" Gilderoy questioned.  
  
"Much. Now watch and listen while I perform the levitation charm." said Harry. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" he cast, making the appropriate motion with his wand. One of the quills rose from the coffee table and hung suspended in midair.  
  
"How incredible!" said Gilderoy.  
  
"Now it's your turn." said Harry, allowing his quill to drift back to the coffee table.  
  
"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The quills remained exactly where they were. Gilderoy looked at Harry and left the couch. "Maybe if I stood up too." he said sheepishly.  
  
"Give it another go." said Harry, suddenly doubting his qualification to teach Gilderoy magic.  
  
"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" said Gilderoy very forcefully. The quill rose from the coffee table and floated about head high. He grinned. "I can't believe it, Harry! I've actually done magic." he said.  
  
"You certainly have! I knew you had it in you all along, Gilderoy. Of course, this is just the simple stuff, but I'll bet that you could be a great wizard someday if you applied yourself." said Harry.  
  
A sudden popping sound behind Harry, the sound of someone apparating, caused Gilderoy to shriek and suddenly point his wand at the individual. His levitated quill, following the motion of his wand, flew toward the person, a thin and slightly shabbily dressed wizard with dark hair, like a dart. The wizard dodged it and pulled his wand from within his robes. He held it defensively, but his eyes gleamed as though he were ready for anything. Harry immediately stepped between them.  
  
"Guys?" he questioned.  
  
"Looks like you got yourself a lively one for a change." said Sirius Black, slowly lowering his wand.  
  
"I guess you could call him that, Sirius." Harry chuckled.  
  
"_This_ is your godfather?" Gilderoy questioned, lowering his wand as well.  
  
"Gilderoy Lockhart, meet Sirius Black." said Harry, stepping out of the way once he was sure that some sort of impromptu duel was not going to take place. Gilderoy had been badly surprised by the sudden appearance of a strange man in the sitting room. His nerves had been on edge anyway.  
  
They looked at each other appraisingly.  
  
To Gilderoy, Sirius looked to be something of a good-for-nothing. There was something about him, other than his patched and frayed clothes, that made him uneasy. The hungry look in his keen eyes perhaps. Or the surliness of his facial expression. He didn't look like a pleasant man at all.   
  
On the other hand, Sirius saw nothing more than an ornamental bird, a pet peacock, when he looked at Gilderoy with his brightly colored clothes and perfectly combed blond hair. And he looked a little dimwitted and chicken-hearted to boot. Not a nice picture at all, physical beauty aside.  
  
"Charmed." Gilderoy managed.  
  
"I'm sure." said Sirius.  
  
The tension was thick enough that even Gilderoy felt it to be quite oppressive. He coughed and tucked his wand away.  
  
"Harry has told me all about you and, well, you aren't exactly what I expected, but then first impressions ... they can be misleading, yes? I know Harry thinks the world of you and ..." said Gilderoy, pursing his lips slightly. "I would like the opportunity to get to know you." he said.  
  
"Harry hasn't told me much about you, but I dare say that you have reflexes like a cat." said Sirius, pausing and grinning. "But I won't hold that against you, I suppose. If Harry says he loves you, then I guess I can tolerate you ... for now."  
  
"Guys, play nice." said Harry in a warning tone. "This wasn't exactly how I wanted the two of you to meet, but what's done is done."  
  
"Next time I will apparate outside. And in my opinion, this place could do with some wards. And, yes, I know that these are days of peace and all, no small thanks to you, Harry, but I would like to know that you're protected by more than mere wood and stone." said Sirius.  
  
Harry laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, "This from a man who once rode a flying motorbike! As always, I will give it some thought."  
  
"And do nothing." Sirius snorted.  
  
"Oh, do have a seat, Sirius, if you're going to go on about the state of the Little Burrow." said Harry, steering him toward a chair and motioning for Gilderoy to join him on the couch.  
  
"I should think you would be out practicing on a fine morning like this instead of hanging about indoors." said Sirius.  
  
Harry laughed and said, "I probably should be, but I think I will be put through my paces sufficiently when I practice with the team in a few weeks. Missing a few mornings won't matter in the long run."  
  
"It was that very attitude that kept James off the national team."  
  
"Funny. I thought it was my mother and the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Sirius held up a hand and smiled softly, "Enough, you proved a long time ago that you could hold your own in an argument. You win."  
  
"Thank you, Sirius." chuckled Harry. "So how is life in London?"  
  
"The same as it's always been. Remus visits as often as his job at Hogwarts allows. Would you believe that he invited me to live with him? Share his little room under the tower?" Sirius laughed softly. "I am much in demand these days, it seems."  
  
"And you said?"  
  
"The timing ... I had to refuse. I doesn't feel right ... yet." said Sirius, shaking his head. He looked much older than his years.  
  
"Sirius, I don't doubt that Remus would wait forever for you. But really, should he have to ... if you really love each other?"  
  
Sirius looked at Gilderoy and then at Harry before managing another smile as he answered, "I want to get it right this time, Harry. I imagine you know what I mean. Sometimes the time and the place are wrong even if the person winds up being right."  
  
"Point taken." said Harry, knowing better than to intrude too deeply into such matters.  
  
"And what about living here then?" asked Gilderoy. "Harry really does want you to, you know."  
  
"Did you tell him everything, Harry?" Sirius asked uncomfortably.  
  
"I believe so." he replied.  
  
"No wonder he looks at me like I'm a low-life and a scoundrel."  
  
"I ..." Gilderoy began to object.  
  
"Gilderoy, Sirius and I need a few moments in private to talk." said Harry, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Would you mind terribly?" he asked.  
  
"I think I could use some air." said Gilderoy with a very understanding look in his eyes. They kissed as Gilderoy left the couch and made his way toward the door.  
  
"Ugh! Love birds! It's so disgusting to see other men in love." commented Sirius as the door closed behind Gilderoy.  
  
"Jealous?"  
  
"Of that popinjay? Certainly not." laughed Sirius, joining Harry on the couch.  
  
"We have been gloriously happy these few days ..."  
  
"Days? Not even weeks yet?"  
  
"That thing you said about timing."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Completely true. Ours must have been perfect."  
  
"Or you're still in that new relationship euphoria."  
  
Harry frowned and said, "I never thought of that. Do you really think that's it?"  
  
"No, I believe you deserve a chance at happiness and if this is it, then this is it, Harry." said Sirius, removing a wadded up piece of paper from his pocket. "Your message ..." he explained.  
  
"I didn't mean to scare ..." Harry began to say.  
  
"Of course not. And I am unbelievably honored that you thought of me first. Even after I ... let you down." said Sirius.  
  
"We're not on that again, are we? The war is over! You can go home!" said Harry, trying to add some levity to the situation.  
  
"Can I, Harry? Can I really?" he asked, twisting side ways on the couch and pulling one leg beneath him. He rested on arm on the back of the couch and gently lifted Harry's chin with his free hand. His eyes were sad. "I made it to the scene of the duel, that little hill over looking the forest and the castle in the distance ... after the battle, but long before the Aurors came, a while even before Dumbledore and Snape. Do you remember, Harry?" he questioned.  
  
Harry shook his head and Sirius continued, "Of course not. You were half mad from the curses, the blood, the pain, the end of it all. Seventeen years old." Sirius brushed back Harry's messy black hair. "Thought you were going to die. Couldn't understand a word you were saying at first. You wouldn't let go of your wand. Couldn't even pry it from your hand or else I would have ... I don't know. Taken you somewhere. Signaled for help. You don't remember it, but I guess that's a blessing. You know what you said to me, Harry? 'Why wasn't there anyone to help me? Why did I have to go it alone?' I still can't answer that question. And I still feel as though I was partly to blame."  
  
"You don't ..." Harry began.  
  
"Hush. I do have to feel responsible. James trusted me to be your guardian, but more than that. I should have been your protector. You faced evil, you faced Voldemort, alone so many times, and shouldn't have had to do it. I should have been there." Sirius told him. "And the one time I thought I had made it ... I was too late to do any good. I know you beat him and you beat him good, Harry, but the burden shouldn't have been yours alone, no matter what anyone says. A seventeen-year-old boy should never have had to bleed for the whole wizarding world."  
  
It was the first time that Sirius had told him the whole story of the events following the demise of Voldemort, or at least the parts that he couldn't remember.  
  
"You know I never expected you to do anything more for me than you did. When I was young, when I first found out that I had a godfather, you gave me hope. And when I was older, your letters gave me strength. And I know all too well how much you blame yourself for. Too much, Sirius." said Harry. "In so much as you feel guilty or responsible for things that happened in my life, I forgive you, even though there really isn't anything to forgive."  
  
"I know you do, Harry, and I'm glad." said Sirius, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He managed a smile. "You always know exactly what to say to make an old man feel better." Taking a deep breath, he added, "Maybe someday I can be as forgiving of myself."  
  
"No time like the present."  
  
"Right ..." he chuckled. "Now, don't you think it's about time you told me about your new sweetheart?"  
  
"He woke up screaming last night. It was a while before I could get him calmed down. Cracked a window ... magically. I wasn't expecting it." said Harry.  
  
"No, I don't suppose you were. What happened to him to cause this?"  
  
"Gilderoy lost his memory six years ago and was in the hospital ever since. I imagine you've heard the story, right?" Harry questioned. Sirius nodded that he had. "Gilderoy was ... abused in the hospital." said Harry, taking a deep breath as he finally came out and said it. Sirius rubbed his eyes and shook his head.  
  
"I can't say that I necessarily approve of your choice in lovers, Harry, especially after the things I have heard about the bloke, but you couldn't have done a kinder thing than springing him and bringing him here. Still, you want to be careful. I don't need to emphasize what a rough time he must have had and is probably still having even if you only notice it when he's screaming."  
  
"I notice, Sirius." Harry objected.  
  
"Harry, one of the reasons you asked for my advice is because of Remus, right?" he questioned. Harry nodded. "Then let me tell you what I learned from loving someone in pain. You can kiss him to stop him from screaming. You can give him things to occupy his mind. But that only goes so far. Not nearly far enough. You have to be patient. You have to listen. And time, Harry, you have to give him _time_ to adjust, to heal, to move on." Sirius told him. "I was never quite able to give Remus that. Before Azkaban I was too young, inexperienced, and immature. Afterward I was too hurt myself to understand someone else's pain, and I had other things to worry about too. You are very lucky, Harry, to have the follies of youth behind you and a lot of pain as well. Draw from your own pain to understand his better. Goodness knows it ought to be good for something." said Sirius.  
  
"You are a wise man, Sirius Black. I only hope I can follow your advice." said Harry.  
  
"Oh, go on! I'm not wise, just experienced." Sirius laughed, the years suddenly seeming lighter upon him as he laughed.  
  
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A/N: That was a long chapter! And rather unfortunately angsty. I probably use the poor-Remus-the-werewolf cliche a bit to often too. What with the holidays and all, I may not be able to post until after the 26th or so, but this story still has some life in it yet.  
  
shadowycat: My sincerest apologies for the ambiguous sentence in the previous chapter! I think I have fixed the problem. *thinks of Sirius and Gilderoy together and shudders* There will probably be a Sirius/Remus pairing in the story, but definitely not Sirius/Gilderoy. Thanks for pointing out the ambiguity and thanks for the very nice review!  
  
  
  
  



	12. The amazing disappearing Lockhart

Chapter Twelve  
  
The amazing disappearing Lockhart  
  
  
  
The discussion had taken longer than Harry had planned, and glancing out the window at the breezy mid-autumn weather, he felt a little badly that Gilderoy had been outside for the better part of the morning. Sirius, looking toward the door as Harry left the couch, picked up the textbook on the coffee table and began flipping through it idly.  
  
"I'm trying to teach Gilderoy a little magic." said Harry.  
  
"He was four years behind me in school. I heard he made Argus Filch look like a first rate wizard." Sirius chuckled. "But ... if I remember correctly, the old charms professor took a special liking to him. Tutored him when no one else believed in the guy. I'm not saying that he can't do magic, but you've got your work cut out for you."  
  
"We'll see about that." said Harry as he walked outside, remembering the flying quill and his theories about Gilderoy's magic.  
  
  
The wind whipped Harry's robes about him as he stepped out of the cottage. It was a clear and sunny late morning. Only a few wispy clouds marred the brilliant blue of the sky. He looked out across the slightly rolling landscape and frowned as he began walking around the cottage. He had not expected Gilderoy to stray far from familiar surroundings. He circled and house a few times before yelling for Gilderoy. There was no answer.  
  
The door to the cottage creaked open to reveal Sirius, who looked puzzled or else amused.  
  
"You haven't lost him, have you, Harry?"  
  
"That isn't funny."  
  
Sirius scanned the horizon, shrugged, and said, "Suppose not. Why don't you grab your broom, get some perspective."  
  
"Right."  
  
"I'll try and pick up the scent, if I can. Haven't done any tracking in quite a while." said Sirius before becoming a large black dog.  
  
"Don't scare him if you find him." Harry cautioned before dashing inside to the broom closet where he retrieved his Lightning Strike Four Hundred, his personal broom.  
  
Sirius was out of sight by the time he mounted the broom and kicked off. The wind blew through his hair as he rose above his cottage and scoured the ground below for any sign of Gilderoy. He could see a large black shape, Sirius snuffling along the ground, on the other side of a small rise. The grass was high and brown, moving likes waves upon the ocean beneath him. The sight would have been pleasing, very simple, but no less beautiful, if the circumstances had been different, if Harry had not been so concerned.  
  
Harry scanned the horizons for any sign of color among the brown, cursing his memory as he couldn't remember what color exactly Gilderoy had been wearing that morning. Blue or purple, he thought, closing his eyes for a moment. Something somber to match his mood, and his lovely eyes. Something that would show up well against the brown and dull colors of autumn.  
  
Harry zipped forward on his broom, his eyes glued to the ground for any sign of Gilderoy, not too worried about being seen. He lived in a relatively secluded area. Not any muggles for several miles in any direction. That was a good thing. He couldn't imagine what Gilderoy would say or do if he were left to his own devices around muggles. He chuckled despite himself.  
  
"Here, let me levitate that for you! I've just learned how." he imagined Gilderoy saying, or, "So tell me do you have any relations in the wizarding world? Let me tell you about my lover and his godfather."  
  
It was a lucky thing that the nearest village or even farm was miles away.  
  
Harry made wider and wider circles around his cottage, occasionally passing over Sirius, who would bay mournfully and return to his tracking. He was beginning to feel more and more concerned. He wracked his brain for possible answers. Were there any port keys in the neighborhood? None that he could recall. Gilderoy certainly couldn't have accidentally, much less intentionally, apparated anywhere. He just didn't have the skill or know-how. And no one just disappears, Harry told himself, trying not to panic, which was becoming increasingly difficult.  
  
As Harry passed over Sirius for the tenth time, Sirius transfigured back into a man and waved his arms to signal Harry, who immediately stopped in midair and landed to join him.  
  
"Well?" Harry asked, dismounting hurriedly.  
  
"I can't pick up anything out here." said Sirius, rubbing his nose. "I don't know if it's the cold, the ragweed, or just a general loss of instincts on my part." He shook his head. "I don't think he could have come this far out even at a run either. We should double back." Sirius suggested, who had covered a much greater distance as a dog than he could have as a man.  
  
"Right." Harry agreed.  
  
"Don't worry. We will find him soon. Probably just found a comfortable place to sit and have a nap." Sirius reassured him.  
  
"I hope you're right, because if anything's happened to him I'll never forgive myself." said Harry, mounting his broom again and rising into the air at top speed.  
  
  
Night had fallen by the time Harry and Sirius returned to the Little Burrow. They had found no sign of Gilderoy Lockhart, no indication that he had ever been anywhere near the cottage or surrounding fields. Harry toppled from his broom and lay on the ground. His hopes had diminished with the last light of the sun as it set over the hills. Something horrible had happened to Gilderoy; he just knew it. Sirius knelt by his side and calmly stroked his back as he let out a strangled sob.  
  
"Come inside, Harry. You have books. There must be something in one of them that will help us. A tracking spell or something. Goodness knows I haven't hit the books in a while, but we can't give up, Harry." said Sirius.  
  
"What if they all weren't captured? What if a Death Eater came looking for me and found Gilderoy and killed him instead?"  
  
"They were all caught. Believe me. I am almost certain about that. And even so, Harry, there would be a body, and it would have been left in plain sight." Sirius assured him, pulling him firmly to his feet. "Come on now! You won't do him a bit of good by going to pieces."  
  
"I know." said Harry, grabbing his broom and allowing Sirius to lead him inside.  
  
"Where are your advanced charm books, Harry?" Sirius questioned, depositing his godson on the couch.  
  
Harry wiped his eyes and looked at the bookshelves in the corner before replying, "Third shelf. The best ones are on the far right, but I can't remember any of them containing a spell ..."  
  
"Third shelf, right." said Sirius, interrupting him intentionally. "There must be something we can use in these." he said, removing two of the larger, advanced spell books from the shelf. "You search one and I will search the other." said Sirius.  
  
"We need Hermione." said Harry in frustration after a few minutes of the skimming the book.  
  
"There's the fire." said Sirius, gesturing toward the hearth without looking up. "We may need some assistance." he admitted. Harry could detect a hint of worry in his features behind the bravado.  
  
Harry laid the book aside and went to the fire, taking a small jar from the mantel and throwing some powder into the flame.  
  
"Hermione Weasley." he said loudly.  
  
A few moments later Hermione's head appeared in the fireplace. Her hair was wet, and she was in a bathrobe. It appeared as though she had been called from the shower.  
  
"Harry, I thought it was you." she said with a smile, winding a towel around her hair. "What can I do for you?" she asked.  
  
Harry tried to speak, but found that he couldn't. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn't talk around. He shook his head.  
  
"Harry? Is everything all right?" she asked.  
  
"Gilderoy ... is missing." Harry managed to choke out.  
  
"Missing? What do you mean missing? Did he ... walk out on you, Harry?" questioned Hermione.  
  
"Hermione," said Sirius, walking over to join him by the fire, "he just went out for some air. A couple of hours later, he was gone."  
  
"We searched for a long time ..." said Harry.  
  
"And you still didn't find him?"  
  
"We wouldn't be calling you if we had." answered Sirius. "Know any good spells for a situation like this?"  
  
Hermione pondered the question for a moment and answered, "I know Harry wouldn't have put a tracking charm on him beforehand, so that's no good. But I do remember a spell where, using an article of clothing or a possession, a person might be sought out by using a wand as a pointer, a sort of blood hound spell."  
  
"You wouldn't know the incantation off-hand, would you?" asked Sirius.  
  
"Sorry, but I don't, and it does seem to be a terribly useful spell. I believe I can look it up and have it for you in an hour." she said.  
  
"Thank you, Hermione." said Harry.  
  
"What are friends for? I'll apparate over just as soon as I have it."  
  
  
When Hermione's image had disappeared from the fireplace, Harry returned to the couch and Sirius went to the kitchen.  
  
"Your cupboards are practically bare!" Sirius yelled.  
  
"I was going to go for groceries tomorrow." said Harry miserably.  
  
"You have some bread. I suppose I could toast it, maybe magic up a jar of jam. What do you say?"  
  
"No thanks."  
  
"Harry, really. You haven't eaten since breakfast and neither have I for that matter. We've got a bit of waiting to do. No sense in fasting."  
  
"I had a big breakfast. I just don't feel hungry." said Harry.  
  
"He cooks too?" asked Sirius with a big grin.  
  
"No, but he washes up with the best of them." Harry replied, smiling a little despite himself.  
  
"That's my boy! I'll have a big plate of toast for us in just a minute. We might be up all night you know. We'll need to keep our strength up."  
  
"And you think we'll find him?" questioned Harry, leaving the couch to join his godfather in the kitchen.  
  
"I have no doubt about it, and by this time tomorrow you will feel absolutely silly about getting all worked up over all this."  
  
"Now you see why I want you around."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"No one else could ever make me feel better about misplacing my lover." said Harry, drawing strength from Sirius's confidence.  
  
"Harry, if you really and truly want me here, I will move in, but only if you don't have any doubts."  
  
"I have never, well, not since I actually met you, had any doubts about you and your place in my life."  
  
"Then, if your beloved Gilderoy agrees, I will moved in tomorrow or whenever is convenient." said Sirius with a smile. Harry could still see the misgivings in his eyes.  
  
"And the three of us will all have a family again."  
  
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A/N: I'm sorry, but the second Gilderoy stepped out that door, I knew he was going to get lost. Actually, the story has a mind of its own. Now was it his own idiocy (charming or otherwise) or a sinister plot?  
  
  
Fox Queen: Um, I'm not quite sure how to respond to your reviews. There have been times in my life when 'evil', 'bad', and 'sick' would have all been compliments. I'm just not sure exactly how to take them at the moment. Anyhow and nevertheless, thanks for the reviews! And curiosity is a good thing!  
  
Michelle: Concerning Gilderoy's ability to do magic, I had to wonder if it was like riding a bicycle. Would magic be something the mind remembered or something more like muscle memory? I'm trying to let it be something of both. Gilderoy can't, obviously, remember the words for spells, but action of casting a spell, of doing magic, would have been left more or less intact. Er, I think. Anyhow, thank you for reviewing and I hope your holidays were and are very happy!  
  
InchySquinchy: I'm glad you liked the family tree. *blushes* I thought about a forest of small trees first and a romantic walked through them, but I decided on the bigger single tree because of the relationships that I imagine would have developed between the various wizarding families. Remus is probably my second favorite character in the books (for the record, Severus is favorite), and I am hoping to include him in the story later. I really like the Sirius/Remus ship. It's just so cutesy most of the time. I have had a terrible time writing Sirius because he has a small part in the books and a huge part in fan fiction (hey, there are hundreds and hundred of Sirius Black stories). I pleasantly surprised see that anyone thinks I do him well at all. Thank you for reviewing the last few chapters! I really appreciate it!  
  
shadowycat: On the subject of Remus the werewolf, my intent was to convey how badly Remus felt about being dangerous (in the pre-Wolfsbane years) and about being shunned and reviled and all that. It's so hard to pour all of that into a single, much less a single conversation, but the primary reason I tried was to support the idea that Sirius would have empathetic skills, and I stand by that. I figured that twelve year in prison (and a more than normally horrible prison) would leave some mark upon Sirius, innocent or not, and that during the war years (and in the books) those scars would have been overlooked for the most part as everyone, even his friends, concentrated on the war. Not I plan to have a moping and miserable Sirius for the rest of the story or anything. As for the nightmares ... only time will tell. Thank you for the review, which has made me think very hard (as always)! And a belated happy holidays to you too!  
  
And my apologies for the enormous author's notes for anyone bothered by their size.  
  
  



	13. Finding the lost

Chapter Thirteen  
  
Finding the lost  
  
  
  
Hermione arrived with an enormous spell book just less than half an hour later. She, not tied down by Ron, apparated in to avoid the messiness of the floo. Nineteen years old and Ron still hadn't passed his test. Apparating just doesn't come easily to some wizards, and he was one of them. Harry preferred almost any other form of transportation himself.  
  
"Sorry, but it wasn't exactly where I thought it was. Must be losing my touch." Hermione confessed, depositing the tome on the table.   
  
She noticed that Harry looked a lot better, though by no means himself. Of course why shouldn't he look worried? She knew that bad things often happened to people he loved.  
  
"It's all right. I'm just glad you're here." said Harry, brushing bread crumbs from his robes.  
  
"Do you have something of his to use for the spell?" she questioned.  
  
"Would a shoe do the trick?" questioned Harry, remembering that Gilderoy had stashed a pair in the guest room.  
  
"Was he the last to wear it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Perfect then. Fetch that while I work on the incantation." she said.  
  
"Right." Harry agreed, dashing to the guest room.  
  
"Sirius, is he a wreck or is he all right?" Hermione asked quietly, opening the book.  
  
"He's fine for the moment, but if we don't find Gilderoy soon and in one piece, that will certainly change." said Sirius.  
  
"No pressure then." she said with a dry laugh.  
  
Harry returned with the shoe, placing it on the table next to the book. He looked at her expectantly.  
  
"I haven't tried this before, so both of you may want to stand back." Hermione advised them.  
  
When the pair had moved out of the way, Hermione took a deep breath and tapped the shoe with her wand as she began the incantation for the _reperio erus_ spell. The incantation was a long one, but Hermione managed it without skipping a beat or pausing as she said the words.  
  
The shoe seemed to glimmer for a moment as she touched it with the wand again.  
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed as her wand began to shake in her hand, causing her to grip it tightly with both hands. It was pointing toward the door, seemingly with a mind of its own. "Grab your cloaks, guys. It's time to go." Hermione told them.  
  
  
Then trudged through the darkness outside with Sirius lighting the way with his wand and Hermione leading the way with hers, keeping a firm grip on it at all times. They were bundled up against the chilly weather, but Harry was also carrying an extra cloak, a good heavy one that was robin's egg blue in color. Gilderoy had not even had the chance to wear it yet. And Harry worried that he would need something against the cold.  
  
The wand was leading them not directly to their objective, but over a meandering course that mimicked the one Gilderoy had taken away from the cottage that morning. At first he had climbed over a few hills, wandered around a bit, and then apparently began walking back to the Little Burrow in entirely the wrong direction. It was after a good bit of walking that they came to the unpaved, muggle road that Harry used when driving to town or anywhere else for that matter. And it was there that they stopped.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked.  
  
"The wand ... it's waiting I think." said Hermione, stepping in one direction then the other. "No, Gilderoy must have looked up and down the road." she amended.  
  
"And?"  
  
"Here we go again." said Hermione, smiling as her wand began pulling her down the road in the opposite direction of Harry's home. She started to jog to keep up with the pull. "It wants to go faster." she said over her shoulder.  
  
"Say, you don't suppose Gilderoy was picked up by a car or something?" Sirius asked Harry as they began to jog to keep up with Hermione.  
  
"We don't get a lot of traffic through this area, but it does seem to be a possibility." said Harry grimly, thinking that it was very likely that they would be altering some memories before the night was over.  
  
  
Their invigorating run ended about an hour later when a small house came into view. It was a ramshackle little place with a white picket fence and curtains in the windows and a car parked in the yard. The lights were still on inside, but as they stopped, panting for breath in the autumn air, they couldn't hear any noise coming from inside. No television or wireless set blaring or even the sound of conversation. If it weren't for the lights, Harry would have sworn that no one was at home. Harry, as the wand permitted them to stop, having done its duty, glanced at their clothes and gestured for Sirius and Hermione to pull their cloaks closer around themselves to hide the robes and such that they were wearing underneath.  
  
"So ... do you want to knock?" Hermione asked Harry.  
  
"Sure." he shrugged as she slipped her wand back into a pocket.  
  
Harry smoothed his windblown black hair before knocking and managing a friendly, disarming smile.  
  
The man who answered the door was not exactly what Harry expected. He was thin, a bit on the short side, and reminded him of someone, though he couldn't say precisely to whom he bore such an uncanny resemblance.  
  
"You've come for him at last! He said you would. The misses was just getting out some blankets for the couch, but I guess he won't be staying the night." laughed the man, ushering them all into the warm house. "You are Harry Potter, aren't you?" he asked, pausing for a moment and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Yes, sir, I am. But how ...?"  
  
"Oh, the mark on your forehead, of course. My son Colin hasn't stopped talking about you in almost seven years now." the man laughed heartily.  
  
"You're not Colin Creevey's father by any chance, are you, sir?" asked Harry, feeling greatly relieved. It was beginning to look as though memory charms wouldn't be necessary after all.  
  
"And Dennis's too. I'm pleased to finally meet you." he said, shaking hands with Harry.  
  
"Likewise, sir." said Harry.  
  
"Isn't Colin graduating at the end of this year?" asked Hermione politely.  
  
"Oh, yes, just has to have his Newts and all." said Mister Creevey pleasantly.  
  
"If I remember correctly, he was rather good at Herbology." commented Harry. "And annoying people." he added silently.  
  
"I don't know all that much about his classes. That's really his mum's department."  
  
"So, Gilderoy is here?" asked Harry as Mister Creevey offered them seats in his parlor, which was an odd mixture of wizard and muggle things: moving pictures on the wall, an old television in the corner, a pot of floo powder by the hearth, a standard muggle clock on the end table. It was all rather quaint.  
  
"Yes, he is. I picked him up on the old road on my way back from my milk run. He was right lost. Charming chap, by the way." said Mister Creevey with a wide grin. "Though I get the feeling that he's that-a-way, if you take my meaning."  
  
"Crazy? Oh, no, he's just suffering from a bad memory charm." said Hermione hastily before Harry or Sirius could ask their host to define 'that-a-way'. The results, she surmised, were not likely to be pleasant.  
  
"Well, there is that too. He explained it to us. Rather interesting stuff." Creevey remarked.  
  
"Where is he now?" asked Harry.  
  
"The misses needed a hand with the linens. I expect he's in the attic. I'll fetch him down for you." he offered.  
  
"Please." said Harry.  
  
The trio waited quietly as they heard Mister Creevey walk upstairs. Harry was content to sit in the warmth of the parlor and bask in the relief that he felt. Everything was going to be all right again. They would be returning home soon. He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled.  
  
"Ah, there's my godson." Sirius chuckled, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I was afraid some horrible, unsmiling wizard had taken his place."  
  
"Harry?" a familiar worried voice called from behind the couch where they were sitting.  
  
Harry practically leapt from his seat to greet Gilderoy, who looked sheepish and a little concerned.  
  
"Gilderoy! I was so worried! I thought ... I thought horrible things had happened to you. I looked everywhere. Sirius too. It took Hermione and the world's largest spell book ... and a shoe ... to find you." Harry babbled, throwing his arms around Gilderoy.  
  
"I just got a little lost, Harry. And I knew you would find me. I wasn't scared. I knew you'd be worried and all, but other than that it hasn't been bad. Mister Creevey and his wife have been awfully nice." Gilderoy told him, holding Harry close as he explained.  
  
"I'm glad you're all right. I was _very_ worried about you." said Harry as they released one another.  
  
Gilderoy smiled and lightly touched Harry's face before kissing him. That kiss said more than words ever could. Harry knew that Gilderoy finally knew that he was loved, not just because he was handsome or somehow useful, but simply because he was. The kiss was different. It was not bereft of passion, but it was compassionate, tender, and loving too. Hermione blushed as she watched them, feeling that the moment was too sacred to be so public. It was like watching the first kiss ever, or at least the first perfect kiss. Sirius rolled his eyes, and Mister Creevey looked a little embarrassed.  
  
"You want to go home now?" Sirius asked them as they parted and grinned at one another.  
  
"Sounds good." said Harry, giving Gilderoy his cloak, which he immediately threw around his shoulders with a grateful look.  
  
"Thank you for having me over. I had a splendid time. Perhaps we can do this again?" Gilderoy asked Mister Creevey.  
  
Creevey smiled faintly and said, "Right. Of course. You folks have a nice evening."  
  
  
It was very late by then, so Hermione disapparated home, leaving Sirius, Harry, and Gilderoy to trudge the weary mile. Sirius could have easily disapparated as well, but he didn't want to leave his godson and Gilderoy to walk home alone. Gilderoy still looked a little shamefaced and embarrassed about getting lost when he only meant to go for a short walk, but Harry would hear none of it. The relief had made him nearly giddy.  
  
"One good thing certainly came of this." Harry said to Gilderoy, hesitating a glance at Sirius before grinning. "Sirius has finally agreed to move in with us, if you approve."  
  
"Of course I approve." said Gilderoy, laughing happily. "We'll be like ... like, oh Harry, like a family." he said as his blue eyes began to water with tears of happiness.  
  
"Exactly." said Harry, clapping Sirius on the back. "Try to look excited!"  
  
"I will. Just as soon as I finish fighting my nausea. I swear the two of you sound so in love that it's positively sickening."  
  
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A/N: The fact that Mister Creevey is a muggle milkman is mentioned in CoS somewhere (I got my book back; it had been borrowed; now I can look things up again), and an online dictionary is still no substitute for language skills. At least not for me.  
  
  
Michelle: It's debatable, I think, whether _I_ had any decent ideas about where Gilderoy went. I agree that living with Harry and Gilderoy will probably be good for Sirius. Stability, a nurturing environment, and all of that. Thank you for reviewing! I am also especially pleased/ relieved to know that my A/N section isn't annoying or anything.  
  
shadowcay: Hermione is a very useful character. One of favorite female characters in the books actually. I can't recall reading about another tracking spell, but it does seem like a useful idea. I thought about having Sirius track him at first, but decided that it was both too easy and too difficult to manage. I think Sirius Black would be something of a complication even without the Harry/Gilderoy relationship. Sirius did have a hard life, after all. Of course, there isn't _that_ much detailed information about him the books (either that or I can't remember it), which makes him difficult to write (but I think I've said that before - can't remember). I've tried to hint that Harry wanting Sirius to move in has been a long time thing, not just a sudden impulse. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
  



	14. Accidental magic

Chapter Fourteen  
  
Accidental magic  
  
  
  
They were all dog tired when they reached the Little Burrow that night. Sirius chose to take the floo home, promising to return with his things the next day. Harry and Gilderoy stumbled to bed, chatting wearily as they undressed.  
  
"Harry, today was absolutely fascinating. I didn't realize that muggles were so very interesting. The Creevey's were absolutely splendid people." Gilderoy told him as he put on a nightshirt.  
  
"You taught their son Colin during his first year. Did they mention that?" Harry questioned, smiling at his excitement, but stifling a yawn too.  
  
"Actually, yes, I do believe they mentioned it. It seems as though I taught a lot of people, doesn't it? You, Ron and Hermione, the older Creevey boy ... I would dearly love to see that school, Hogwarts, they called it, one of these days."  
  
"I think I arrange for you to visit the school." said Harry.  
  
"When?"  
  
"Maybe next week. Sirius needs to get settled in and everything. And I have to go to the grocer's tomorrow."  
  
"Can I help Sirius with his things and all then?"  
  
"I am sure he would appreciate the help." said Harry with a chuckle as they climbed into the bed and the lights slowly dimmed and darkened.  
  
"Excellent." Gilderoy yawned.  
  
"I'm so glad I have you."  
  
"I know, and I feel the same way." he said, leaning over and kissing Harry on the forehead. "And I am sorry that I'm forever frightening you."  
  
"Comes with the territory I suppose."  
  
"Perhaps it does." Gilderoy mused sleepily.  
  
  
When Harry woke up the next morning, he decided to let Gilderoy sleep in for a change and slipped quietly into the shower. Sirius, never one to back out of something once he had agreed to it, would certainly be coming over at a semi-decent hour, although Harry expected that to be well before noon at any rate. He enjoyed a nice, long shower before throwing on some clothes. Gilderoy, he noticed, sat up and rubbed his eyes as he put his arms through the sleeves of a muggle T-shirt, which was what he usually wore to fetch the groceries from the nearest town, which was inhabited almost exclusively by muggles.  
  
"What the devil is that you're wearing?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"Muggle things." Harry sniffed, wincing at he looked as he reflection in the mirror, which was fortunately not a charmed one. "I have to wear them when I go to town." he explained.  
  
"So unbecoming." Gilderoy yawned.  
  
"Have a lie in, won't you? You deserve a decent rest. I'm going to the store and shan't be back until afternoon." said Harry.  
  
"And Sirius?"  
  
"I'll leave him a note to wake you, if you still mean to help him."  
  
"Of course I do!"  
  
"Good." nodded Harry before stepping out.  
  
  
Harry left a note on the guest room door for Sirius and fed Hedwig her breakfast, or whatever owls take as their morning meal, before grabbing his car keys and going off to market. The morning was chilly, but clear and breezy. It was going to be a beautiful day. Harry let the top down on his rather beat-up convertible and zipped his jacket up, grinning. There was nothing magical to this, but there was something wonderful about the wind blowing through his hair whether he was on a broom or in his car. Though neither so dangerous nor so adventurous, Harry felt just as free as he drove down the unpaved lane toward the road leading to town as he did in the air.  
  
Harry happily speculated about the recent changes in his home life as he drove. He had a handsome lover who was already more committed than any of those of his school years had been and whom he loved desperately in return. His godfather had finally consented to leave his cellar apartment and perhaps stop living in guilt-ridden anguish, giving both of them a chance to have what he considered to be a more normal family life. Everything was beginning to look up for a change. A feeling of euphoria rushed through him as the wind whipped through his hair.  
  
Of course, there was still the matter of Gilderoy's memory and so forth and those memoirs that he was supposed to be writing, but no one's life was perfect. He grinned picturing Gilderoy and himself sitting on the couch in front of Ron's vaguely illegal enchanted typewriter with a couple of glasses of wine and a cheerful blaze roaring in the fireplace. And suddenly one out of two of his minor issues didn't look so bad at all.  
  
  
The drive to and from the grocers' had been a very pleasant one. The back seat of his car was filled with bags of groceries and such, mostly food and various cleaning products, nothing too unusual. Harry had once considered hiring Dobby the house elf away from Hogwarts to do the necessary cooking and cleaning, but he could imagine too easily how torn Dobby would have been, wanting to serve both Dumbledore and his good friend. But then, Harry didn't mind domestic work too much. He had done enough of it as a child not to be afraid of hard work. In fact there were days, when he lived alone, that the work had been quite satisfying. Of course, he now had someone with whom to share that work, which was all the more pleasing and satisfying.  
  
Harry parked the car in the yard and lifted a couple of bags from the back seat, intending to have Gilderoy give him a hand with the rest if he wasn't too busy helping Sirius. Gilderoy always seemed eager to lend a helping hand. Of course, he had been a Hufflepuff during his school days and perhaps some of that had stuck with him even if he didn't remember the lessons learned as part of that house. Harry smiled thoughtfully as he balanced the grocery bags and let himself into the cottage.  
  
When he stepped inside and turned toward the parlor, intending to greet Gilderoy or Sirius or whoever was around, he gasped sharply at what greeted him.   
  
Sirius was standing there, looking a bit disheveled and embarrassed as he scratched his head. Standing next to him was a leg, a bit of robe and torso, a sleeveless right arm and the matching hand, and the left half of Gilderoy Lockhart's head and face. But where was the rest of him? The groceries fell to the floor with a crumpling thud.  
  
"What the hell!" yelled Harry, dashing through the kitchen.  
  
"Splinched." Sirius sighed, moving quickly to put Gilderoy between Harry and himself.  
  
"How could Gilderoy get splinched? He doesn't even know how to apparate!" Harry bellowed, although a good idea of how this had happened was beginning to form in his mind.  
  
"Harry?" Gilderoy questioned weakly, flailing a bit with his present arm.  
  
"Does it hurt?" Harry asked him quickly, still glowering at Sirius, who had not answered his question.  
  
"Of course not. He's just scared." said Sirius in mollifying tones. "Right, Gilderoy?" he prompted.  
  
"Right." Gilderoy replied. It was very difficult for him to talk.  
  
Having never been splinched himself, Harry could only take his word for it. He took Gilderoy's hand and patted it. Gilderoy clamped onto his hand like a vice.  
  
"I trust that the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad is on its way?" asked Harry.  
  
"They're already at my place actually." said Sirius. "They thought it might be easier to pull this half of him back."  
  
"How soon?"  
  
Sirius shrugged and replied, "They've been at it a good twenty minutes. It should be quite soon. It's a pity too really. He got it right the first time. I imagine he just got over confident."  
  
Harry was slightly impressed by that fact. Apparating was a difficult bit of magic. Hardly something for a beginner to be experimenting with, but still ...  
  
"And why was he doing it at all?" asked Harry.  
  
"I didn't want to take my robes and so forth through the floo. It takes forever to get all the soot out. And then there was my books ... and Gilderoy so wanted to help." said Sirius. Harry could tell that despite his apparent nonchalance, Sirius was quite sorry for putting Gilderoy in danger and scaring them both so badly. "He has proven quite a bit more capable than I remember." Sirius added.  
  
"Sirius ... knew ... me ... in school." said Gilderoy, who had squeezed his eye closed,with some difficulty.  
  
Just then a Ministry wizard, no doubt from the Reversal Squad, apparated into the sitting room. He ran a hand through his hair and shook a finger at Sirius and Harry.  
  
"You both should have more sense than this!" he said with a bit of an Irish accent. "Especially you, Harry, you _know_ how hard it is to do this sort of thing."  
  
"Seamus Finnigan! You know that I would never have encouraged ..." Harry said, laughing and defending himself at the same time, pleased to see his old Quidditch mate and fellow Gryffindor instead of some curmudgeonly old Ravenclaw.  
  
"Just kidding, Harry." said Seamus, who had been a brilliant chaser during their sixth and seventh years. "I think I can hush all this up and set aside the fines and paperwork, especially since no one's seen him but Sirius, the lot of us, and you."  
  
"I'm in your debt, Seamus."  
  
"Go on with you, Harry! One of the boys never saw anyone splinched before. It was worth it just to see him turn green. Always happy to help a friend."  
  
"How long until you can put him back together?"  
  
"That bit's tricky. We need to reassemble him in a third location. Too difficult to pull him back or push him forward." said Seamus, shaking his head.  
  
"Where do you have in mind?" asked Harry worriedly.  
  
"Oh, Bernard and Darby are clearing a patch of ground just outside and away from the house. Shouldn't take long. Then their going back to London. It will probably take the both of them to do what's needed. I should be able to handle this end, tho' if you want, Harry, you can pull out your wand too." said Seamus.  
  
Wrenching his hand from Gilderoy's, Harry removed his wand from his jacket, tossing the garment aside.  
  
"Remember doing this our seventh year during our Magical Remedies and Immediate Aid course with Madam Pomfrey?" asked Seamus with a grin.  
  
"Yeah, but that was just for practice."  
  
"They ... are ... ready." Gilderoy said, obviously in communication with two wizards who had just returned to London.  
  
"Grand!" said Seamus. "On the count of three, Harry."  
  
"Right."  
  
"One ... two ... three!" Seamus counted.  
  
"_Convenio_!" they shouted together, pointing their wand at Gilderoy.  
  
Gilderoy merely squeaked and vanished with a rather sullen sounding pop. Seamus tucked his wand away and clapped Harry heartily on the shoulder.  
  
"Let's go see how well it worked." said Seamus, glancing at Harry and Sirius as he nodded toward the door.  
  
  
The sound of two sharp pops greeted Harry, Seamus, and Sirius as they walked outside, the other two members of the squad coming to admire their work. Harry laughed when he saw the result of their efforts. Gilderoy was looking rather dazed, not to mention a bit indecent, as he climbed to his feet, having landed in a prone position. He brushed the dirt and dust from his skin and shivered slightly. Although he had been reassembled perfectly, most of his clothes had found themselves in a heap on the floor of a dingy London apartment.  
  
Relief that he was back in one piece flickered in Gilderoy's eyes as he looked at Harry. One of the wizards had an amber colored robe draped over his arm, which he offered to Gilderoy almost immediately. For all intents and purposes, Gilderoy may have been content to remain in his underclothes, if it were not for the deuced cold. He hastily tossed on the robe and darted toward Harry, who was chuckling. All of the Ministry wizards looked a bit embarrassed on Gilderoy's behalf.  
  
"I didn't mean to cause any trouble." Gilderoy told him as Harry pulled him into a warm embrace. "Sirius thought ..."  
  
"Let that be a lesson to you." said Harry. "My godfather almost never thinks and unbelievable trouble is usually the result when he does. But no harm done, I suppose." said Harry, trying not to grin at the faint look of discomfort on Finnigan's face. He had always been a good friend and fine Quidditch player, but he had never been completely at home with Harry's sexual preferences.  
  
"I resent that." Sirius mumbled.  
  
"Now why don't you go and get dressed properly while I talk to these gentlemen." Harry suggested, shooing Gilderoy toward the cottage.  
  
Giving him a peck on the cheek and holding his robes closed, Gilderoy simply smiled his thanks before dashing inside and out of the cold.  
  
"This has made for an entertaining morning to say the least." Seamus told them.  
  
"Too right." agreed one of the wizards.  
  
"You are all welcome to stay for lunch. I would hate to think Sirius and Gilderoy had made you miss yours." said Harry.  
  
"Oh, we couldn't do that." said Seamus, who despite his age seemed to be in charge of the operation. "We usually have lunch with our colleagues and swap stories in the Ministry cafeteria." he added.  
  
"With anyone I would know?" asked Harry.  
  
"Ron Weasley joins us from time to time, but mostly it's Dean and some older blokes from Ravenclaw. They may be a bit by the book, but they are never short on stories." shrugged Seamus.  
  
"I won't keep you then." nodded Harry.  
  
"Right, and see that your ... friends don't try any more shenanigans any time soon." Seamus warned before he and his two colleagues apparated back to the offices in London.  
  
"Well, that wasn't so bad." said Sirius, rocking on his heels.  
  
"You ... inside ... now." said Harry in a low and dangerous voice.  
  
"You sound just like your mum when you do that." said Sirius as they walked back inside the cottage.  
  
"Do you even realize how dangerous that stunt was?" Harry asked him, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"I didn't mean any harm, Harry. He was so eager to help and I couldn't see the use of sending him through the floo when he could just ..."  
  
"Sirius! He could have wound up inside a wall or in Wales or in a lake. Think about it! There are sensible reasons why wizards don't just decide to start apparating one day, why there are classes and tests and precautions."  
  
"I know." said Sirius. "And I am sorry. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was frighten either of you like that. It won't happen again."  
  
"No, I dare say that Gilderoy will know better next time even if you don't." said Harry.  
  
"Well, in any event, we did get most of my things moved in. Just a few arm loads of clothing and a trunk of books left, I believe. I can handle that myself."  
  
"Good. I have groceries to bring in, and I imagine that Gilderoy ..."  
  
"Yes, you probably should see to him." Sirius cut in, looking guilty for a moment. "I can unload your car before I get back to my moving and all."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
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A/N: I've always wanted to see someone splinched. I'm evil that way.  
  
shadowycat: Actually, what happened was that the plot sort of got away from me for a couple chapters, but it's nice to know that it was 'fun'. I often wonder about the wizarding community outside of Hogwarts and London, what it would be like and all, and what mixed wizard/muggle families would be like. I think about exporing that in more detail, but, eh, there's only so much time. Thank you for the review!  
  
  
  



	15. Light doesn t always follow the darkness

Chapter Fifteen  
  
Light doesn't always follow the darkness  
  
  
  
Gilderoy was standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, adjusting the collar of his shirt, when Harry entered. Harry could see a soft, bashful smile appear on his face in the mirror as Gilderoy noticed him. He looked perhaps a little uneasy, though certainly no worse for wear. Splinching, it seemed, was no more harrowing than its name let on, just perhaps a bit disconcerting, especially since no one had warned Gilderoy of the possible dangers of apparating.  
  
"Feeling all right then?" Harry asked him, walking over to the mirror and admiring their reflection. They had never looked so mismatched. Harry was wearing old muggle clothes, the ones he always wore to market so as not to attract any attention to himself. Gilderoy was wearing casual wizarding clothes, flowing and beautifully made garments that Harry had bought especially for him. He had brushed off the amber robes and wore them loosely about his shoulders.  
  
"Better. I suppose I shouldn't try that again until I've tested and all. It was fun though, when it worked. Sirius was so proud, not to mention surprised of course. He said that I was a bit of an idiot in school. Told me a little bit about that while we waited for the accidental people." said Gilderoy.  
  
"A bit of an idiot?"  
  
"Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, and I'm sure it's the truth." said Gilderoy, suddenly looking at Harry disapprovingly. "When are you going to put on something decent?"  
  
"This is decent." Harry protested, plucking at his shirt.  
  
"Well, something not ugly then." suggested Gilderoy.  
  
"Fine, but I grew up wearing clothes like these, and I am quite comfortable in them, thank you very much." Harry grumbled, going to the wardrobe to pick out something. "Help Sirius with the groceries while I find something more suitable to your tastes."  
  
"Pity. I wanted to watch you change." Gilderoy sniffed before sauntering off.  
  
  
Sirius was back in London and the groceries were in the cupboard by the time Harry had made himself presentable. Gilderoy was lounging on the couch, obviously having decided that he had worked hard enough for the morning. Harry glanced into the guest room, which now contained an assortment of chests, boxes, crates, and cauldrons full of Sirius's belongings. Upon a hook on the bathroom door, he could see some of Sirius's clothes hanging quite neatly. Gilderoy, he surmised, had placed them there. The drawers of the bureau were open and had been filled with neatly folded garments, some muggle things, but mostly wizarding wear. Probably also Gilderoy's doing. Sirius would have simply tossed everything on the bed and sorted it out later.  
  
"Harry, Sirius was quite pleased with the room. We moved your stuff into the closet in our room. I'm sure you saw it." Gilderoy called, noticing Harry's inspection.  
  
"Yes, I did. I'm planning to throw some of it out. I don't think I need my uncle's old socks anymore." chuckled Harry, returning to the sitting room and joining Gilderoy on the couch.  
  
"Your muggle relative?" asked Gilderoy curiously.  
  
"Yeah." Harry answered.  
  
"Are you angry with Sirius?"  
  
"Not so much angry as disappointed."  
  
"Well, try not to be too hard on him, Harry. I don't think he has had a nice time of it at all, poor fellow, though with his attitude I can certainly understand why."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"He ... seems so tired and grumpy ... at least when I tried to get him to talk about the past, school and all. I know about prison ... You told me about that. But it doesn't seem like Sirius has had the chance to live, really live, unfettered and free, for ages."  
  
"He hasn't, I suppose. School was probably the last time he was free. And then right after he graduated ... my parents ... traitorous Peter Pettigrew ... Azkaban prison ... then the guilt."  
  
"Well, maybe he'll be all right now."  
  
"I hope so, Gilderoy, though maybe you shouldn't ask him about the past for a while, all right?"  
  
"Sure, Harry."  
  
"If you have questions, come to me and we'll find the answers together."  
  
Gilderoy was quiet for a moment, but Harry could feel the rattle in his chest as he chose to speak again, "I'm still not exactly sure how much I want to know about my past. I want to know the good things ... I'm desperate to know them."  
  
"But not the bad, right?"  
  
"Right." he nodded, smiling a little as he realized that Harry understood.  
  
"Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good."  
  
"It isn't easy ... to want that, or to accept it."  
  
"I think I've already told you the worst of your past. What are you really afraid of, Gilderoy?"  
  
"That if I remember the bad, the evil, that I perpetrated, that I will do so again."  
  
  
That thought, those few words, unsettled Harry even as he tried to brush them aside with a friendly laugh and a kiss. And they stayed with him long after Sirius had returned and the three of them began unpacking chest and stacking boxes, getting Sirius all squared away and properly welcomed into their home and lives.   
  
He didn't think that Gilderoy was right by any means. The lovely, kindly, and sweet blond that looked at him with innocent blue eyes and a soft smile could never become the self-centered, egomaniacal coward from his second year at Hogwarts. That was impossible.   
  
But what was very real was Gilderoy's own fear of becoming that person again, the person who had been punished with six years of insufferable loneliness and even abuse because of his crimes. Harry certainly knew that Gilderoy had wrongly made a connection between the crimes of his forgotten past and his terrible and nightmarish days at St. Mungo's. Harry wanted to tell him that he had not deserved anything that had happened to him in the hospital, but he was afraid of Gilderoy's reaction.  
  
"Harry!" he heard someone call.  
  
He shook his head to clear it and looked up questioningly. He had been brooding too deeply as he unpacked a box for Sirius.  
  
"Yes?" he asked, looking up at his godfather, who had a perplexed and amused expression on his face.  
  
"I asked if you wanted Gilderoy and me to cook dinner tonight."  
  
"Really! We should cook for you since it's your first night here and all." said Harry, scrambling to his feet. "Although, when I say 'we' I really mean 'I' as Gilderoy cannot be entirely trusted in the kitchen." he added quietly.  
  
"I heard that!" Gilderoy called from the other room.  
  
"You wouldn't let me give it a whirl?"  
  
"Not today, Sirius, not today." said Harry. "I will do the cooking while the two of you finish tidying up."  
  
  
It was a peaceful, uneventful evening. The first in nearly a week, Harry believed. The first since Gilderoy's arrival. Not that he begrudged the nights of passion or any of it really, but he was tired and he didn't feel young enough to survive the sustained excitement. He had never told anyone how much the duel with Voldemort, almost a year earlier, had taken out of him. When Voldemort perished, the power he had inadvertently bequeathed to Harry died with him. Harry could still manage a bit of Parseltongue, but he felt diminished and faded since that day, though few people knew or understood what had happened.  
  
Poppy Pomfrey knew. So did Albus Dumbledore. Possibly Snape, although Harry wasn't sure. It had been his own business. He had done what was necessary, what everyone had expected, and the costs be damned. He had played through the Quidditch season and even tried out for the national team, never expecting to make it. But he had. Harry had been the only one surprised. Nevertheless, every day that he had practiced all summer had drained him twice as much as the games he had played when was still young and still strong during the dark days when Voldemort was alive. He wondered how he would manage playing professional Quidditch while feeling like an old man.  
  
As he sat by the fireside with Gilderoy, absent-mindedly running his fingers through his lover's wavy blond hair and watching his godfather don a pair of reading glasses to flip through a battered Defense Against the Dark Arts book, Harry Potter felt as old as either of them and tried to enjoy the few moments of peace as the fire crackled in the hearth. The shadows lengthened outside, and he felt sleepy, more truthfully worn out. He had been wondering for days now how long it would take for everything, the tree climbing, the love-making, and the activity in general, to catch up with him. He yawned softly, and Gilderoy shifted.  
  
"Tired, Harry?" he questioned intuitively.  
  
"A bit." he confessed.  
  
Sirius's eyes sparkled as he looked over his glasses at them. Harry wondered if Sirius knew as well. Or at least suspected that something might be wrong.  
  
"Perhaps we should all turn in for the night. We've had an exciting day."  
  
Harry's eyelids were drooping as he grunted in agreement.  
  
"I'll take him to bed." he heard Gilderoy said with a doting chuckle.  
  
"Of course." said Sirius.  
  
Strong arms lifted him from the couch and carried him to the bedroom. Harry was fast asleep before Gilderoy even removed his glasses and helped him out of his robes.  
  
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A/N: Just to be informative, the reference to Voldemort's powers and Harry comes from the end of CoS.  
  
shadowcay: I imagine that when someone's splinched, that they are still connected somehow, but that discussion gets really hypothetical and weird too. Of course, in GoF (chapter 6) there's a conversation that leads me to believe that it wouldn't be fatal, or necessarily all that bad. Harry and Gilderoy will be going to Hogwarts. That adventure should start in the next chapter, I think. Thanks for the review!  
  
Michelle: My sense of humor and other people usually do not mix well. I'm glad you found the last chapter amusing. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pesh: Thank you very much for the highly complimentary review. Mostly my Latin problems are with spell names that I have to make up. I don't want them to sound stupid and stuff or mean something inadvertently ridiculous ... Thanks for the offer to help. I may take you up on it. (German was my language of choice.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. The question of Sirius and Remus

Chapter Sixteen  
  
The question of Sirius and Remus  
  
  
  
Morning came with the sound of an owl twittering in the other room, which was quite odd since Hedwig didn't twitter. The noises she made were far more dignified. Harry sat up in bed and recognized the sound of Ron and Hermione's little Pig, the owl Ron had gotten from Sirius at the end of their third year. Harry put on his glasses and grabbed his house coat as he slipped out bed.  
  
"What on earth?" Gilderoy yawned.  
  
"Just an owl. Go back to sleep." Harry told him. Seconds later Gilderoy was snoring and Harry was making his way into the parlor, yawning, but feeling quite refreshed, the tiredness of the night before forgotten.  
  
Hedwig had obviously let Pig inside and was glaring at the smaller owl for daring to make so much noise. Pig darted toward Harry, showing off the note attached to his leg. He was like a feathered Snitch as Harry grabbed for the note.  
  
A soft whistle from the guest room caused the bird to settle down enough for Harry to snag the note. The owl appeared to remember his former owner.  
  
"I thought he would grow out of it." Sirius chuckled from the doorway where he stood in his nightclothes.  
  
"I think Ron still gives him candy or something. Sugar and delivery owls don't appear to mix." answered Harry, unfolding the note.  
  
"Anything of interest?"  
  
"I asked Hermione about his memory. Smartest person I know. I figured she could ..."  
  
"Yeah." said Sirius softly.  
  
"Am I wrong to even ask?"  
  
"That's between you and him. I know he's anxious about it, about his memory. He spent a long time alone, thinking about things as best as he could. It can't hurt though, I suppose, to have the answer on hand when he decides." said Sirius.  
  
Harry nodded in agreement and began reading:  
  
"_Dear Harry, I looked into memory charm cures for you. I made the assumption that all the textbook, standard cures were tried and failed, so I began looking into obscure ones and into the latest research. It doesn't look good. If you push too hard, you harm the person, no matter what method you use, and I know the last thing you would want is to hurt Gilderoy. But the matter isn't entirely hopeless. Memory loss by non-magical means, through head injury for example, occurs among muggles quite often, although certainly not to the same degree as what happened to Gilderoy. I am researching muggle methods of dealing with amnesia and will let you know what I find. The only thing I can say for certain is that familiar people and things may help to trigger memories. I won't stop looking, but don't hold your breath, Harry. Give my regards to Gilderoy. Love, Hermione Weasley_."  
  
"Well?" questioned Sirius.  
  
"She doesn't have an answer." said Harry, shaking his head and offering the note to Sirius.  
  
"Familiar people and things?" Sirius questioned after quickly skimming the letter.  
  
"He has been asking to see Hogwarts."  
  
"Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff in a couple of days. Think that would help?" asked Sirius with a smile.  
  
"You want to go too, don't you?" asked Harry.  
  
"First game of the school Quidditch season. I could make room in my busy schedule."  
  
"It might do him some good to see his old house play and take a tour of the castle and grounds, if the headmaster allows it."  
  
"Gilderoy was a ..."  
  
"Hufflepuff."  
  
"Of course. Funny though. He handled himself quite bravely yesterday. Although perhaps that's a credit you." mused Sirius. "And I know Dumbledore will permit it. He will be very pleased to see you out and about. Word has it that you are a recluse, you know."  
  
"I go out all the time!"  
  
"Name ten places you went this summer and fall before your blond friend moved in." asked Sirius, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"The grocer's ... St. Mungo's ... Ron and Hermione's place ... that Ministry thing back in the summer ... Quidditch practice in Kent." Harry listed.  
  
"Can't do it, can you?" said Sirius.  
  
"I go out on the broom all the time."  
  
"Alone." snorted Sirius.  
  
"I get your point. And I would love to see Hogwarts again. Show it to Gilderoy."  
  
"And see if that seeker you trained is up to snuff?"  
  
"Don't remind me." Harry sighed, thinking of young Jill Allbright, who had had something of a crush on him and was very difficult to train because of it.  
  
"I have it on very good information that Gryffindor will trounce Hufflepuff. They haven't had a decent seeker since ..." Sirius began to say, stopping short.  
  
"Cedric Diggory." Harry finished for him.  
  
"Sorry about that."  
  
"So am I."  
  
"Kick that lout out of bed and get dressed. I'm making breakfast this morning." said Sirius, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Thanks." Harry said.  
  
"Nonsense. Just be sure to get us good seats for the game." he said with a grin that didn't quite reach his sad eyes.  
  
  
And when Gilderoy found out about the possibility of going to see a Quidditch game, not to mention that school of witchcraft and wizardry that he had heard so much about, it seemed as though he could talk about nothing else for three days. Sirius thrilled him with tales of both James and Harry's days on the Gryffindor house team, which made Harry blush just a little bit. Harry, after securing seats for the match through Remus Lupin, who was rather pleased that Harry had taken Sirius in, had finally sat down in front of the typewriter with that glass of wine and started work on his memoirs.  
  
Harry laughed softly before he began. He wasn't yet twenty years old and his friends believed that his life could fill a book, and he didn't disagree with them. And he finally knew how to begin.  
  
"My life began on the day I found out that was a wizard ..."  
  
Harry could feel Sirius, who had stopped mid-story in the kitchen, and Gilderoy listening to him as he spoke aloud to Ron's enchanted typewriter.  
  
"I was eleven years old. It was my eleventh birthday and during the time of the year that every child with the gift of magic usually receives their Hogwarts letter, though it took more than the usual amount of effort for me to receive mine ..."  
  
  
Harry talked to the typewriter and watched it print out his words for the better part of an afternoon and evening, the day before the Quidditch match, sorting through the notes that Hermione and Ron had helped him make during their visit as he needed them. Gilderoy and Sirius watched him in wonder and listened with rapt attention to a young man who was easily a master storyteller in addition to being a powerful wizard and star Quidditch player. Soon a stack of carefully typed pages lay next to the typewriter.  
  
"That was brilliant, Harry." said Gilderoy as Harry leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, obviously done for the day.  
  
"Thanks. I never thought I would be able to start. I just tried to imagine talking to a group of younger wizards and to the two of you." answered Harry.  
  
"It sounds really good so far. I like the conversational tone. It makes you sound modest and older too." said Sirius.  
  
"I just hope that Ron and Hermione approve." Harry chuckled, suddenly imagining himself as an old, retired soldier or captain or something, sitting on the front stoop of a tavern and telling stories to any and all who would buy him a drink.  
  
  
The next morning they were all out of bed before the sun rose over the hills outside. Harry had dragged out a couple of his older Gryffindor scarves and transfigured one into Hufflepuff colors for Gilderoy the night before, insisting that he support his own house. The weather had turned colder over the last few days, but it was going to be a sunny day with just a slight breeze. The perfect weather for Quidditch.  
  
Harry grinned as he helped Gilderoy into a fur-lined cloak as they waited for Sirius, who was grousing about not being able to find a wool cap with the Gryffindor lion on it. Despite the early hour, both Harry and Gilderoy were tingling with excitement. Harry had never seen the house team play as a spectator and could hardly wait for the game. Gilderoy was eager to see his first game too.  
  
"Got it!" yelled Sirius as he emerged from his room.  
  
"Great. Are you apparating and walking or traveling with us?" asked Harry, stepping toward the hearth with Gilderoy in tow.  
  
"Whose chimney are you borrowing?"  
  
"Remus's, of course." said Harry.  
  
"I don't know ..."  
  
"It's been weeks, and he would love to see you."  
  
"Did he _say_ that?"  
  
"Naturally."  
  
Sirius hesitated before nodding silently.  
  
  
Harry was the first to go through the floo, mainly to warn Remus that Sirius was indeed coming along. He climbed out of the professor's hearth and began brushing off his clothes as he looked around for Lupin only to find him dozing in a nearby chair.  
  
"Remus?" Harry asked, walking over and shaking his shoulder.  
  
"Seem to have nodded off." said Remus with his kindly, almost boyish smile. "Will I be seeing your godfather today?" he questioned, stretching and glancing toward the hearth.  
  
"You will indeed." said Harry.  
  
"I can't thank you enough for what you're doing for him." said Remus.  
  
"He's family." Harry shrugged. "I don't have a lot of that, you know."  
  
"I know." Remus nodded. "What about your other new addition?" asked Remus, pursing his lips slightly.  
  
"Well, you know ..." Harry began before the whoosh of the floo interrupted. "Meet him for yourself." he laughed, watching Gilderoy clamber none to gracefully out of the fireplace.  
  
Gilderoy grinned at them and said, "Harry, I don't think I shall ever tire of traveling by floo. If only it weren't so messy." "You must be Professor Remus Lupin. I've heard so much about you from Harry and Sirius." he said.  
  
"Just Remus to you." he chuckled, shaking hands with him. "Gilderoy, isn't it?" he questioned.  
  
"My reputation must precede me." said Gilderoy, still smiling. Only Harry noticed the momentarily worried or pained look that flashed through his eyes.  
  
"Indeed it does. I don't know when I've seen Harry happier." said Remus, possibly intuiting the man's mixed emotions.  
  
A second sound from the hearth heralded the arrival of Sirius Black. Harry gently pulled Gilderoy out of the way as Remus walked over to the man that he would forever and always love. Sirius just stood there, looking uncomfortable and sooty.  
  
"Sirius, you look thin. Have you been eating all right?" Remus asked him.  
  
"I'm getting three square now for a change. You look ... like always." Sirius replied. "Good, I mean." he added.  
  
"Thank you." said Remus, reaching to dust some of the ash from Sirius's clothing. Sirius stepped back. "Sorry." he murmured, withdrawing his hand.  
  
"No, I am. I just ... can't yet. I ... want to get it right." Sirius whispered.  
  
"So do I." said Remus almost inaudibly.  
  
Sirius dusted off his own clothes as Remus walked away.  
  
Harry gave Sirius a questioning look, but Sirius could only shrug. The years had been hard on both Remus and him. One had been unable to find decent work for long periods of time, shunned by all the wizarding world as a heinous monster. The other had been imprisoned for terrible, unforgivable crimes, and no one had believed him when he tried to proclaim his innocence, not for years upon end, not even his lover. Then the war with Voldemort came and brought them together in the worst of circumstances, ending only a year before in a terrible duel in which they could not even assist Harry. That had harmed them too, but in different ways, though they both bore great burdens of responsibility. Remus had grown stronger and pushed onward with his life. Sirius had been consumed by guilt and pain that threatened even now to devour him whole.  
  
"Ready to go claim our seats?" Harry asked, knowing that the protracted and uncomfortable silence would not help either of them.  
  
"Of course." said Remus, struggling to smile again.  
  
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A/N: That was a bit depressing.  
  
  
InchySquinchy: So if Severus isn't your complete favorite, who is? Just curious. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Sirius's Crazy Chick: I can't stop now. This is like 16 chapters! Sorry. But thanks for the review!  
  
shadowycat: The thing with Harry and Voldemort comes from years and years of reading _The Lord of the Rings_ and brooding on the costs of victory in the fictional fight of good against evil. There is always a price ... And it's usually too high. I have spent many nights, since I started writing this story, tossing and turning and thinking about memory and personality and the connection between them. That memory charm might have been the best thing to happen to Gilderoy. A clean slate if nothing else. But if he delves into his past, what dangers might be found there? Hard question! There has already been subtle evidence that he is remembering vague impressions of things ... Gilderoy might be facing a struggle sometime in the future. Wow, you write the best reviews. I had to sit around thinking for along time about this one. Thank you!  
  
  
  



	17. A game of Quidditch and a talk with a ha

Chapter Seventeen  
  
A game of Quidditch and a talk with a hat  
  
  
  
The players were just taking to the field when Harry, Gilderoy, Sirius, and Remus reached their seats. Harry stood, scanning the field for friends and classmates that he had just left the year before, until Gilderoy tugged at his sleeve, causing him to take a seat. Gilderoy was grinning as he watched the players on their brooms. Harry smiled too as he watched seventh year Ginny Weasley take the Quaffle. She was the most experienced chaser on the team, having two full seasons under her belt compared to the pair of second years who were the other chasers for the Gryffindor team.   
  
Half the team at least had left school the previous year, Harry realized, and he didn't know half of the current team as well as he would have liked. That, of course, excluded Allbright, the team's seeker. He had trained her himself. Jill was in her fifth year and quite good, though incorrigible. Her crush on Harry had been unrelenting. The only thing that had finally stopped her constant flirting was that fateful day when the team had walked in on Fred and Harry during a pre-game snogging session. And even then she had still looked at him with dark brown eyes filled with a certain wistful longing.  
  
"Say, Harry, isn't this sport a bit dangerous?" asked Gilderoy as a Bludger grazed the shoulder of a Hufflepuff chaser, nearly knocking the girl from her broom..  
  
"No one's died in years." Harry shrugged.  
  
The commentator, Andrew Jordan, who was a Gryffindor fourth year and the younger brother of Lee Jordan, was giving excellent commentary as the game progressed: "_Branstone just got nicked by a Bludger, but she keeps the Quaffle. Branstone to Whitby, but no, Weasley's got it._"  
  
Harry winced as Ginny turned over in the air to avoid a Bludger sent her way by Madley, a Hufflepuff beater. She just managed to get the Quaffle by the extremely young Keeper as she righted herself.  
  
"_Gryffindor scores!_"  
  
Harry raised his eyes above the pitch, where the Quaffle was being thrown from chaser to chaser in an excellent show of Hufflepuff team work, to watch Allbright and Dana Coldbath, the Hufflepuff seeker, in their search for the Golden Snitch. Allbright was scanning the field below as well as keeping an eye on her yellow clad counterpart, just as Harry had taught her, as she circled the pitch at a reasonable speed.  
  
"_Weasley intercepts the Quaffle! Weasley to Goode to ... back to Weasley. And denied! Sherry Franks blocks the Quaffle. And it's caught by Whitby._ "  
  
It had been close, Harry thought, returning his eyes to the action on the field, watching graceful Ginny Weasley zip after the Hufflepuff that had claimed the ball. The other two Gryffindor chasers were right behind her, narrowly dodging a Bludger from the larger of the Hufflepuff beaters.  
  
"_Hufflepuff scores!_"  
  
The game was tied. Harry glanced at his companion and was pleased to see the excitement in his eyes. Gilderoy was enjoying the match and cheering for both sides, which made the two former Gryffindors next to him grin.  
  
"Look, Harry! They're diving after something!" said Gilderoy, pointing toward Allbright and Coldbath.  
  
The two seekers had spotted the Snitch. Harry squinted and managed to see a little flash of gold near the ground at the Hufflepuff end of the field. Proceeding toward the Snitch at a sharp vertical angle were Jill and Dana. They were hurtling toward the ground at breakneck speed.  
  
"_The seekers have spotted the Snitch!_"  
  
"Oh, I can't watch!" moaned Gilderoy, latching onto Harry's arm.  
  
Harry put his arm around Gilderoy, but he couldn't take his eyes of the seekers and their pursuit of the Snitch. Coldbath was leading by an arm's length, straining forward dangerously on her broom as she gripped it with only one hand. Allbright was just behind her, desperately trying to get more speed out of her three-year-old Firebolt.  
  
"Don't be stupid." Harry muttered, watching Allbright edge forward on her broom, holding on with just her knees.  
  
A streak of darkness swept toward Allbright, narrowly missing the end of Coldbath's broom. Harry wasn't even sure which team had sent the Bludger rocketing toward them. It was a dangerous move. The Bludger collided with Allbright's side just as Coldbath lurched forward to swipe at the Snitch. A frightened gasp went up from the crowd as Allbright was thrown.  
  
Harry found himself on his feet with Remus and Sirius as Gilderoy remained cowering in his seat. Allbright flipped over twice in midair before landing on the ground with a sickening and audible crunch. She had fallen only fifteen feet or so, but at a terrible speed. Harry had seen some awful Quidditch accidents and had been a part of more than he cared to think about, but Allbright being unseated at full speed by a Bludger beat about half of them.   
  
There was only a smattering of cheers from the Hufflepuff students as Coldbath held up the Snitch with a look of mixed elation and concern on her face as she landed. She dismounted her broom as quickly as possible to check on the condition of her opponent.  
  
"How like Cedric Diggory." Harry thought dizzily as the referee, Madam Hooch, blew her whistle.  
  
On the pitch Allbright was already trying to pick herself up again with little success. Harry could see that one of her legs was broken and her left arm hung loosely at her side. She looked dazed and remarkably pale as her teammates and Coldbath reached her, arriving seconds before Madams Pomfrey and Hooch. The Gryffindors looked gloomy as they helped their seeker onto a stretcher summoned by Pomfrey. The Hufflepuffs looked a bit chagrined even as they clapped Dana on the back and hoisted her onto the beaters' shoulders to celebrate their victory. It had been a long time since they had beaten Gryffindor house.  
  
"Oh, Harry, do you think she'll be all right?" asked Gilderoy, who had gone very pale too.  
  
"Yeah, she'll be fine." Harry assured him.  
  
"I don't think I like this game." said Gilderoy.  
  
"It isn't always like this. I played a whole season once without being injured." Harry reassured him.  
  
"Oh, no! This isn't what you do, is it?" asked Gilderoy, his eyes widening. Harry nodded. "Wait, and you play the same position ... Oh, no, Harry!"  
  
Sirius, who had been following the conversation, put a hand on Gilderoy's shoulder and told him, "Harry played six years of Quidditch without breaking his neck. You don't have to worry about him. Allbright was just careless. Harry's never careless. Are you, Harry?"  
  
"Of course not." said Harry absently, watching them remove Allbright from the field.  
  
  
They all walked back to the castle together and had a light lunch in Remus's rooms, thanks to the house elves, who were rather fond of the werewolf.  
  
"They think I'm too thin, too frail." Remus explained as the elves who brought them their meal vanished. "They thought the same thing when I was a student too." he commented.  
  
Sirius chuckled and added, "All of us. They said that to all of us, even James and Lily. 'Boys isn't liking skinny girls' one of them told Lily. Then the elf looked rather pointedly at James. He turned three different shades of red."  
  
"But she knew by then." laughed Remus.  
  
"Because you told her!"  
  
"If you hadn't mussed that charm, I wouldn't have had to. Someone had to tell her why James was walking around with letters over his head that read, and I quote, 'Jater Potmes Veslo Livy Elans'. In letters the size of Quaffles, I might add."  
  
"I meant for them to say that 'James Potter loves Lily Evans'. And it seemed like a good idea at the time." Sirius shrugged.  
  
Harry smiled, listening to them relive the glory days as they ate. It was always wonderful, but the occasions when both were willing to reminisce were rare, very rare indeed.  
  
"Actually," Sirius said thoughtfully, looking at Harry and Gilderoy, "I could take another go at it."  
  
"Oh, no, you don't." said Harry, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. "I may love Gilderoy, but I think both our heads can do without letters around them."  
  
"Going to see the headmaster before the grand tour?" asked Remus.  
  
"I ought to, don't you think?"  
  
"Naturally."  
  
  
Harry and Gilderoy stood in front of the Griffin that guarded Dumbledore's office while Harry recited a list of candy names, hoping to come up with the password. Gilderoy just smiled pleasantly and looked around the hall of the castle.  
  
"I've been here before. It seems cheerier somehow though." Gilderoy commented.  
  
Sunlight was pouring in through the windows, bathing even the proud Griffin statue in warm yellow light.  
  
"Butter beer, chocolate frogs ..." Harry sighed. "You know, I think you're right." he said before going back to it.  
  
The swish of robes in the corridor behind him caused Harry to turn.  
  
"I've switched back to 'lemon drop', though I am pleased to hear that you haven't lost your sweet tooth since you've left us, Harry." said the kindly voice of Headmaster Dumbledore. "I was just in the hospital wing with your young protégé. Miss Allbright will be fine in a few days, certainly by the Gryffindor - Ravenclaw match." Dumbledore told him, leading them into his office.  
  
"That's good to hear, sir, although I thought I had trained her better." said Harry.  
  
"From time to time our pupils may disappoint us, but most of them turn out all right in the end." said Dumbledore. "And, Gilderoy, how are you this fine afternoon?" he asked.  
  
"Good, sir. Very good." said Gilderoy, who had been glancing around Dumbledore's rather impressive office.  
  
"How is your memory?" he questioned. Gilderoy looked at the floor and shook his head. "Sorry to hear that."  
  
"It's okay. I'm living with Harry now." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Yes, I believe there was a picture in _The Daily Prophet_ some days ago. The two of you looked so happy together." said Dumbledore.  
  
"We are." chuckled Harry. "I brought Gilderoy with me today to see some of Hogwarts. I wanted to try and jog his memory."  
  
"I was a student here and a professor, according to Harry and Sirius."  
  
"You were both." said Dumbledore with a kindly smile. "I remember your days as a student well. Never a trouble maker, always pleasant and respectful." he said, leaving out any comments regarding Gilderoy's ability to teach or the events that ended his employment with the school.  
  
"Thank you, sir." he said, finally looking up from the floor.  
  
"Your Sorting was one of the most interesting I had seen in ages." Dumbledore chuckled. "At least before Harry came along." he added, his eyes twinkling with amusement.  
  
"What happened?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"The Hat laughed."  
  
"Sir?" asked Harry.  
  
"You heard me. The Sorting Hat laughed."  
  
"Do you know what it told him, sir?"  
  
"If you want to know what I told young Mister Lockhart, you might as well ask me." said a voice from a high shelf.  
  
Gilderoy started as he looked up and exclaimed, "By Jove! That hat! It can talk!"  
  
"It sings as well." said Dumbledore.  
  
"But only once a year." the Hat said, almost reproachfully.  
  
"Can you tell us why you laughed at Gilderoy?" Harry questioned.  
  
"Does young Mister Lockhart object?"  
  
"No, not at all." Gilderoy responded quickly.  
  
"I saw that you had a destiny that would touch every house but perhaps Ravenclaw. The ambition of a Slytherin, blunted by your tragic past and the grief that nearly buried your magic. The gentleness of a Hufflepuff, dulled and diluted by laziness that would not be easy to repair. No doubt the finer portions of these traits came originally from your parents, whom I also remember with fondness. The impulsiveness of a Gryffindor, hidden and stifled by your not unfounded fears. And I saw a lover in your distant future, your present now, that would cultivate that spirit of yours and what little courage you have. Truly, you were difficult to place.  
  
"Slytherin house would have been the death of you, or worse. Gryffindor was hardly an option, knowing that you would receive schooling in its values later in life. Hufflepuff values hard work above all else and to that were you unaccustomed. And Ravenclaw would have been an ill-fit indeed. You asked me to put you somewhere that wasn't 'scary' or 'uncomfortable', so, Mister Lockhart, I sorted you into Hufflepuff house, for unfortunately the Founders did not conceive of a fifth house for people like you. And because of that, I laughed." the Hat explained.  
  
"And all this time I suspected that it was his name." said Dumbledore, shaking his head.  
  
"And if you could sort me again, would you choose the same house?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"No, I think this time I would give you to Slytherin, though it is difficult to say for sure ... from all the way up here." said the Hat.  
  
"No one is being resorted today." said Dumbledore.  
  
"Pity. I would love a second look into that one's head. Potter's too really." sighed the Hat. "Can anyone tell me what rhymes with 'aggrieve'?" it asked, giving something of a shrug and going about its business of preparing the song for next year.  
  
"Does the Sorting Hat's answer disturb you, Gilderoy?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"No, I suppose not, professor. I know I'm not clever or hard-working or brave." said Gilderoy. "I don't have any illusions."  
  
"You were a caring and decent young man in your day. Most of the students in your house liked you. They understood that your childhood had been difficult and made allowances that perhaps the other houses would not." said Dumbledore.  
  
"Losing my parents, you mean." said Gilderoy, hesitating a glance at Harry.  
  
"Yes, that. I'm surprised you're aware ..."  
  
"Harry found out for me. I wanted to know."  
  
"They were good people, Celeste Diggory and Godfrey Lockhart. Both were excellent students and tributes to their respective houses. There was never a Badger more fierce than your mother. I was not at all surprised when she became an Auror and a good one."  
  
"And my father?"  
  
"Godfrey was a marvelous chess player, very orderly and careful, and, of course, quite an advocate for a Slytherin pure-blood who was to the manor born. He was cut from a very different cloth than many of his generation. He was a fine student too, always in the library. I do believe that if you asked, Madam Pince would still remember him, and kindly, which says quite a bit about his character." answered Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor, you wouldn't happen to know what became of Gilderoy between the time his parents were killed and enrolling, would you?" asked Harry.  
  
Dumbledore looked over his spectacles and replied, "He lived with his cousins, the Malfoys."  
  
Harry frowned. He had half suspected that Gilderoy had been raised by the Diggory family. He couldn't recall seeing the Malfoy connection on the wizarding family tree.  
  
"The Malfoys, sir?"  
  
"Gilderoy is Lucius Malfoy's first cousin, though strictly speaking, they were not brought up together as Mister Malfoy entered school rather earlier than most and was often away from the manor. At least this is what I have heard." said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry looked at Gilderoy for a moment and almost laughed. It was finally clear where he had picked up the more negative Slytherin traits that had allowed him to do such disgraceful things in the name of ambition and fame.  
  
"That explains a lot." said Harry.  
  
"Does it, Harry?"  
  
"I had wondered how Gilderoy, having such wonderful parents and being a Hufflepuff, could have, you know, turned out the way he did." said Harry, giving Gilderoy an apologetic look. Gilderoy nodded that it wasn't necessary. "I was almost certain that he had been raised by the Diggorys."  
  
"If the Ministry had listened to reason, perhaps he would have been, but Hadrian Malfoy was not a man easily crossed and he wanted the child."  
  
"To what ends?"  
  
"Revenge, of course."  
  
"Because Gilderoy's father was on the side of muggles and muggle-born wizards even though he was from a pureblooded house?"  
  
"Exactly." nodded Dumbledore. "Can you think of better revenge that raising his son to be a true Slytherin, and all that that implies?"  
  
"No, sir, but he still failed, didn't he?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and said, "Yes, he did, Harry. The Sorting Hat should get credit for that, I suppose."  
  
Gilderoy frowned and asked, "But why go through so much trouble?"  
  
Harry could hear the question Gilderoy really wanted to ask even if he didn't voice it. The Malfoys had been allies with Dark Wizards and practitioners of the Dark Arts into time long forgotten. Surely they had known something of the attack upon the Lockharts, possibly even having a hand in it themselves. Why not just murder the Lockhart heir and be done with it?  
  
"Before Lord Voldemort truly rose to power, there were codes of honor that dictated the behavior of the oldest wizarding houses. Often these could be used to achieve acceptable ends, political marriages, for instance, but sometimes they did bind the hands of even the worst of wizards. Certainly Hadrian Malfoy had no love for the child of Godfrey and Celeste Lockhart, but he couldn't simply snuff out another line of powerful, pureblooded wizards. Especially not when there was the chance, Gilderoy, that you would become someone useful to the allies of Darkness." Dumbledore explained.  
  
"Was I ever useful to them, sir?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"No." said Dumbledore with a smile. "In those matters you were always Godfrey and Celeste's son."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A/N: I can't believe I tried to write a game of Quidditch! I love the game (in the books and in the movies especially), but I don't follow sports in the real world.  
  
  
Michelle: Old lovers ... now that could get interesting, but how to find them. I'll have to think on that for a while. Places would be Hogwarts, and maybe somewhere else later. Your Quidditch question was very interesting. Harry went straight from playing for his school team to playing for the national team. No small feat. But the battle did change him, which is why he's worried. And Harry is a bit worn these days ... As for Sirius and Remus, only time will tell. I love the pairing. So keep that in mind. *grins* Thank you for all of the excellent questions and the very kind review!  
  
shadowcat: I am sorry to disappoint, but Remus will have a slightly larger part later. And about seizing the day ... I think Sirius still has a little ways to go in learning that lesson, though I'm sure he agrees in principal and when thinking about other people, but Gilderoy and Harry should help him with that. I think Snape might be making an appearance later, but he's in all my other stories. I was kind of trying to give him a break. Thanks for the encouraging and thoughtful review!  
  
  



	18. Never had a dream come true

Chapter Eighteen

Never had a dream come true

Harry wasn't sure if the tour of the castle did Gilderoy any good or not. After they had retrieved Sirius from Remus's office where the pair had spent much of the afternoon talking about old times, they trio returned home. As they ate a late supper Harry questioned Gilderoy about his memory and Hogwarts, but Gilderoy claimed that it had stirred no memories, good or bad.

"It looks like it was all for nothing, Harry." he sighed into his teacup.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Of course."

"Then it was well worth it." said Harry. "What about you, Sirius?"

"It was nice ..." he said.

"And?"

Sirius looked at him with troubled eyes and replied, "Nothing you need to worry about, Harry. Remus and I had a quiet chat by the fireside. Nothing more."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was what we needed." said Sirius.

"Then why do you look so sad, I wonder." thought Harry, though he chose not to probe any deeper with his inquiry.

"Cheer up, Sirius. It will all work out. I know it will." Gilderoy told him with a reassuring smile. He knew better than to ask questions. Or perhaps he didn't know the questions to ask.

"Thanks." said Sirius before leaving the table to go read in his room.

"Poor fellows." said Gilderoy quietly as he began clearing the table. "I hope we never end up like that."

Harry chuckled and put an arm around him as he stood at the sink, kissing him on the neck before saying, "No chance of that. But don't fret too much over them. They don't like it either, and what's more, they will get it right again someday, just like you said. They love each other too much to let life or anything else stand in their way forever."

The next morning lessons began again for Gilderoy, but this time, he had two willing teaches to instruct him in the fine art of wizardry. Sirius could not sit idly by while his godson taught rudimentary magic to Gilderoy. He had to add his advice and suggestions.

"Why are you only teaching him charms? Shouldn't he know some Transfiguration magic too? Or what about Defense Against the Dark Arts? Surely that might come in handy one day." said Sirius.

"Charms was his best subject, right? Maybe he should master that first." said Harry.

"I have my doubts - excuse me, Gilderoy - that he was ever a qualified Charms master. We all know he was shite for Defense Against the Dark Arts, now don't we?"

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed. Then he remembered the pixies. "Well, not this time. Right, Gilderoy?"

"Right!" he nodded.

"I could always fetch a boggart ..." Sirius hinted. His method of instruction would probably bear a striking resemblance to that of Professor Lupin.

"Not today." said Harry before turning to Gilderoy. "Today we will be learning a Summoning charm. After all, you were focused enough to apparate that one time. This shouldn't be so difficult."

"Excuse me while I take shelter under the kitchen table." said Sirius with a slight chortle.

Harry had wisely started the lesson with a pair of balled up socks, which had neither sharp edges nor considerable weight. They had sailed across the room at a ridiculous speed on Gilderoy's fifth attempt, narrowly missing Hedwig, who was not at all pleased. Control seemed to be a big problem until Sirius pointed out that Gilderoy wasn't holding his wand steady.

"Don't give him anything sharp." Sirius warned time and again. "He'll have our eyes out before the day is done."

"You're just sulking because you want to make him an Animagus." said Harry.

"I would love to see the form he takes if he could manage it."

"Animagus?" questioned Gilderoy.

"Transfiguring oneself into an animal." Harry clarified.

"Can you do that?"

"Not quite." said Harry, wincing as he remember trying to turn into a stag like his father. It had been painful and only partly successful. "But Sirius can." he added.

"What do you turn into?" asked Gilderoy.

"A dog." Sirius shrugged, putting his book aside.

"Can you do it whenever you want?"

"Yes."

"Can you do it now?"

Sirius looked a little smug. It was a great trick to be an Animagus. It required years of study and practice. And Sirius had gotten around the 'official' parts of that for a very long time, though he had dutifully registered after the war.

"Oh, don't torture him, Sirius, just do it so we can get on with the lesson." said Harry.

Sirius shrugged and a second later there was a large black dog curled up in the chair where he had been sitting. The chair creaked under his weight. The dog yawned and blinked at Gilderoy placidly.

"Magnificent!" said Gilderoy with a rather foolish grin on his face.

Sirius barked and resumed his human form.

"It comes in handy sometimes." he said. "I would never have survived Azkaban without the skill."

"Maybe someday ..." Gilderoy said, hesitating a glance at Harry.

"Maybe." agreed Harry reluctantly.

"Let me see your wand." said Sirius. "After all, some wands are better for that kind of work than others."

"But you didn't use a one." said Gilderoy, allowing Sirius to examine his wand.

"Don't need to anymore. Practice, you know." said Sirius thoughtfully. He tapped it and frowned. "What's its core made of?" he questioned, recognizing the wand as a foreign model.

"I don't know." shrugged Gilderoy.

"It's heavy. It feels like opal to me." said Sirius, his eyes looking momentarily troubled.

"How can you tell?" asked Harry.

"I worked for Ollivander one summer to raise some funds. He offered me a permanent job after I got out of school, but I turned him down." said Sirius, returning the wand to its owner. "I think this would be a fine wand for transfiguration work." he added. "Though it is probably a good bit more accustomed to charms."

"Thank you." said Gilderoy.

Their morning was occupied by magic lessons for Gilderoy, but afternoon was the time when Harry would sit down in front of the typewriter and work on his memoirs with Sirius and Gilderoy listening attentively. Sirius nodded approvingly as he listened to his godson recounting his first days at Hogwarts, something that he had missed out on. Harry glanced at them from time to time, Gilderoy sitting by the hearth and Sirius resting comfortably in a nearby chair, and felt glad that he had the chance to share with them. As evening neared Harry slowed down and finally sighed, settling against the couch and smiling.

"That's a nice beginning, isn't it?" he yawned.

"I suppose you've earned your supper." said Sirius with a chuckle, reaching for a book on the end table. His fingertips brushed a card that was laying there. "An invitation?" he questioned.

"Defeat of Voldemort Ball and Dinner." shrugged Harry.

"Oh, yes, Remus mentioned it." he said, chuckling at the pictures included in the invitation.

"And?" asked Harry, a grin coming to his face.

"He said that I could go as his date, no strings attached. I am considering it ..."

"Gilderoy and I are going together." said Harry.

"He dances too? Aren't you lucky! Remus has unfortunately always had two left feet, not that he doesn't try." chuckled Sirius.

"I dance?" questioned Gilderoy. "No, that can't be right."

"We have a couple weeks. We could teach him." suggested Sirius. "And by that, I mean you can teach him and I can enjoy the show."

Later that evening after dinner while Gilderoy was washing up, Harry and Sirius moved all the furniture out of the sitting room and rolled up the rug to provide them with a dance floor of sorts. There was a bit of a smirk on Sirius's face as they levitated the couch in Harry's bedroom.

"Almost ready?" Harry called toward the kitchen. Gilderoy was drying his hands and unrolling his sleeves.

He grinned as he answered, "Absolutely!"

"Music?" Harry asked Sirius.

"It would be my pleasure." said Sirius, pulling out his wand and casting, "_Cantus tripudio_!"

A soft melody perfect for dancing began to fill the air as Harry pulled Gilderoy from the kitchen and onto the make-shift dance floor. He seemed a bit nervous. Sirius stood near the hearth and out of the way. Harry guided Gilderoy into position, showing him where to put his hands, before taking the lead as the more experienced dancer. Most of his dance partners over the years had been content to follow.

Harry began moving slowly and counting the rhythm in Gilderoy's ear as they danced, shuffling at first, but their movements growing more fluid after a few minutes. Gilderoy mastered the basic steps rather swiftly.

Then the music changed ...

It was an American muggle song playing, one that Harry recognized from the radio and rather liked. A grin spread slowly over his face as they continued dancing, moving closer together.

"Dancing must be like riding a bicycle." Harry mused, gazing into Gilderoy's forget-me-not blue eyes. The nervousness had faded from them. Harry was losing himself in their warmth and depth.

There were tears shining in Gilderoy's eyes as he listened to the music and looked into Harry's smiling green eyes. The cottage, the entire world with all of its worries and cares, had seemed to fade away around them as they both became lost in the music and the eyes they were looking into, filled with happiness and wonder.

Gilderoy leaned toward Harry and gently kissed him as they continued to dance close to one another.

"I love you." he whispered softly.

"I know." said Harry, returning the kiss. "And I will always love you."

Harry rested his head on Gilderoy's, breathing in the scent of his hair and relishing the romantic moment. Life and love had never been so sweet, so perfect for either of them.

"Harry, is dancing always like this?" asked Gilderoy softly in his ear.

"Not always." said Harry. "But maybe for us ..."

Leaning away, Harry smiled and spun his dance partner around. Gilderoy laughed as Harry caught him and held him close for a second before their feet found their rhythm again.

"Always for us."

As the music ended Harry pulled Gilderoy into his arms and held him as they stood in the middle of the sitting room. They lingered there for several minutes, enjoying the closeness, too emotional to speak. Harry closed his eyes and sighed softly. Everything was so perfect.

"Great music, Sirius. Thank you." said Gilderoy, glancing into the kitchen where Sirius had retreated to give them some privacy.

"I always liked that one." he shrugged. "Heard it while I was on the run ... It reminded me of ... Remus and the dances they used to hold at Hogwarts back in our day."

"Thanks. It was wonderful." said Harry, wiping his eyes and grinning at Gilderoy. "And, I dare say, your feet remember more than you do. I imagine that you were once quite the dancer."

"Were? Once?" chuckled Gilderoy, pretending to pout.

"Still are!" laughed Harry.

"And hope to be for a good many years to come."

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Additional disclaimer: The lyrics to "Never Had a Dream Come True" belong to whoever wrote the song (S Club 7 recorded the song, but I can't find writing credits anywhere) and have been removed as per the Pit-of-Voles ToU.

A/N: I know, that was incredibly sappy and fluffy there at the end with the music and all. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to experiment with a little song fiction-ness. And maybe the song wasn't perfect, but I heard it in a restaurant somewhere and immediately thought of Gilderoy (which is pretty weird, I know).

shadowycat: Yeah, it seems like the site is having server problems or something again. Thanks for taking the time to review again. I am glad you enjoyed the Sorting Hat's discussion. Why didn't Harry notice the Malfoy connection? He examined the matenal line (Diggory) and saw Cedric's name ... Harry just didn't think to check any further at that point. You know, poor dead Cedric ... (I kind of liked him too.) And being raised by the Malfoys. I imagine it would be very easy for nurture to beat out nature in that situation. I would really like to work Snape into the story, but he would almost need to be a mean Snape and I don't write a very good mean Snape. sighs Maybe he can show up at the ball or something. Thanks again for reviewing!

Warning: The story will probably be taking kind of a darker turn from this point on. Do people really want warnings like this? Can't be helped. Forewarned is forearmed, and without a forearm, how will any of us ever get our Dark Mark? (Just kidding about that last part, I swear!)


	19. Ballroom blitz

Chapter Nineteen  
  
Ballroom blitz  
  
  
  
The days became rather routine after that: magic lessons in the morning, writing in the afternoon, and dancing in the evening. Harry counted down the days on his calendar in anticipation of the ball. He had never looked forward to such events before. In fact he had had only grudgingly tolerated them since he was a teenager. The celebration last year had been a chance to leave the hospital wing at Hogwarts for the first time and hardly more than that, despite any dancing he may have done. This year was different. This year he was going to a ball with the man he loved, not to mention Sirius and Remus who were going on a very tentative date.  
  
The evening of the ball, after Harry and Gilderoy had decked themselves out in their fine formal dress robes, Sirius took a photograph of them to go with the _Daily Prophet_ picture that Harry had framed and put on the mantel. Gilderoy looked a little tired, having had a nightmare just the night before, possibly due to his anxiousness about making a good impression and not embarrassing Harry at the ball. Sirius had been unconsciously walking on egg shells around him all day, but nothing could spoil the evening they had planned.  
  
Sirius, sifting through his belongings for hours to find them, was wearing dark blue dress robes that were obviously rather old, though not too shabby, but held a sentimental value for him somehow. Harry suspected that they had belonged to Sirius from before his imprisonment.  
  
"We'll have Remus take a family picture once we get to the ball." said Harry, doing his best to get them all out the door. They were taking Harry's car instead of the floo.  
  
"I imagine that he would be delighted." chuckled Sirius, fastening the camera strap over his shoulder.  
  
The days of living with Harry had done him a world of good. He was no longer too thin, and the haunted look had nearly left his eyes. Sirius looked as though he were getting a second chance at youth. Remus had visited them twice the week before, though it was easy to see that his main objective was to check on Sirius. Whatever had stood between them previously was slowly being ironed out by long talks and walks through the hills, though Harry always noticed that Remus seemed slightly troubled or worried, though he did his best to hide it.  
  
Harry had overheard Remus's parting words to Sirius while he was taking a break from writing.  
  
"And _they_ will always trouble us. No matter how safe we may feel."  
  
Harry had shifted uncomfortably when he heard those words, though he didn't quite understand their meaning. Even as they all climbed into Harry's car, they weren't far from his mind. Only the rush of a cool afternoon breeze through his hair was able to drown them out and push them from his mind.  
  
"London! Here we come!" laughed Gilderoy, grinning at Harry and at Sirius in the back seat.  
  
  
Remus Lupin met them at the ballroom the Ministry was using, located in wizarding London and away from prying muggle eyes. He grinned when he saw Sirius. Remus's eyes lost their innate sadness as he held out his arm to him and he took it. Gilderoy and Harry linked arms with amused smiles and followed them into the enormous ballroom, which was full of wizards and witches already. Everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world had been invited, and a large number of them had decided to come.  
  
The room was lit by floating candles and torches along the walls. The light of the waning moon shone silver through a few high windows, giving the ballroom a warm, yet ethereal feel. The scent of cinnamon and tea filled the air, no doubt coming from little trays of tea and goodies being carried by house elves. Dinner would not be served until late in the evening. The guests would need something to tide them over while they danced. Soft music intended for that very purpose filled the air, though there was no sign of a band. It was obviously magical music, though no less pleasing because of it.  
  
Two small house elves took their cloaks for them as they approached the ballroom floor. Harry scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He spotted Ron and Hermione talking to some older Ministry officials. Percy was sipping a cup of tea and watching the wizards and witches who were already dancing. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were among them. Poor, repentant Draco Malfoy was dancing with Pansy Parkinson, whom he had yet to marry. In a corner almost out of sight, Ginny Weasley and Severus Snape were having their yearly argument about dancing, which he inevitably lost. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were sitting at a little table near one of the walls, probably discussing their work.  
  
"Are we going to dance now, Harry?" asked Gilderoy, tugging at his sleeve.  
  
"That's what we came here for." said Harry, allowing himself to be led onto the dance floor.  
  
  
They danced together for almost an hour, laughing and talking quietly as they moved to the music, enjoying every minute of it. The pair earned a smile from McGonagall and Dumbledore, who winked at them as they left the dance floor, though Harry did not wish to speculate about where they were going.   
  
Oliver Wood and his young finance from Beauxbatons greeted them cordially as they were dancing in close proximity. Oliver looked a little worse for wear after playing professional Quidditch for several years, but the lovely witch on his arm didn't seem to mind. Everyone seemed to be having a splendid time on the dance floor and off, where Harry occasionally heard the sound of uproarious laughter, signaling, undoubtedly, that Fred and George Weasley had arrived.  
  
  
The house elves were just bringing the tables out for the dinner and Harry and Gilderoy were still lingering on the dance floor when the sound of glass shattering overhead extracted many a sharp and frightened gasp from the attendees of the ball. Glass flew all around them as three people in black robes and masks burst through the windows and leapt to the ballroom floor with their wands drawn. It was instant chaos such as Harry had not seen since the days of Voldemort. Magic sizzled through the air as harsh voices began calling out curses, the wizards and witches slow to react to the unexpected attack.  
  
Harry whipped out his wand with one hand and grabbed Gilderoy with the other, hissing, "Run!" as he did so.  
  
Gilderoy fumbled for his wand and shook his head mutely. He had no intention of going anywhere. Leaving Harry was not an option.  
  
Around them the air was filled with screams, though the battle had been joined. Good witches and wizards were hurling curses and spells at the individuals in Death Eater garb. Harry realized that there were more of these black clad villains that he had originally believed. Others had come through the shattered windows or perhaps rushed the door. Harry flung disarming spells at them as quickly as he could from his unprotected spot on the ballroom floor.  
  
Suddenly there was an explosion of magic nearby that lifted him from his feet. Harry clinched his wand in his hand and tried to roll with the impact as he hit the ground. He was dazed, but that didn't keep him down long. His body reacted to the surge of adrenaline, no less powerful than the one he had felt just a year earlier as he fought Lord Voldemort. He stumbled to his feet and cast a binding spell on the nearest black robed figure, looking around for Gilderoy.  
  
He spotted blond hair and beige and gold robes a few meters away and ran toward him with his wand raised defensively. The noise around him was deafening. He slid to his knees beside Gilderoy, who had been stunned by the blast, which had left the ballroom floor pitted and the air full of acrid smoke.  
  
"Gilderoy?" Harry questioned, rolling him onto his back.  
  
"What's happening?" Gilderoy moaned, his eyes clouded by terror.  
  
Harry crouched over him protectively as green flashes flickered nearby. He hushed him as he felt heavy steps reverberating through the floor behind him. Harry turned to see a masked figure towering over them. Shielding Gilderoy with his body, Harry began to raise his wand.  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!" the figure cried in a fell voice of ice and malice. Harry's wand flew from his hand. He could feel bones in his hand snap at the force.  
  
Harry stifled a cry and fought to keep Gilderoy safe beneath him as the figure brought his wand to bear on both of them. He squeezed his eyes closed and hoped that giving his life would be enough to save Gilderoy.  
  
"_Accio glass_!" he heard Gilderoy yell, managing to point his wand toward a pile of glass shards behind their attacker.  
  
There was an earsplitting scream just above them. Harry felt glass shards rain about them. And there was something moist dripping nearby. He opened his eyes as a dull thud registered. Harry turned to see the Death Eater collapse with long and jagged shards of glass imbedded in his back. He lay motionless, dead.  
  
"Gilderoy, you saved us." said Harry as he scrambled for his wand, holding it gingerly in his broken hand.  
  
Gilderoy only nodded his head and closed his eyes, his wand slipping from his fingers.   
  
Their clothes were flecked with blood. Harry looked around to see two of the black robed wizards flee through the high windows using levitation charms. He spotted Dumbledore and McGonagall near the ballroom entrance. They had obviously driven the dark wizards away. Both wizard and witch were forces to be reckoned with.  
  
Harry looked at his lover and felt both worry and pride. He had saved them both with a simple spell and quick thinking. Harry gently lifted his head and shoulders into his lap, wincing at the pain in his hand.  
  
"Harry? Harry? Are you all right?" yelled Sirius as he ran toward them, his feet crunching on the glass.  
  
"Gilderoy ..." Harry said, loosening his collar to feel for a pulse. "I think he may be hurt."  
  
"And you?" asked Sirius, looking at the blood.  
  
"My hand's broken, but I'm fine. Gilderoy needs medical attention." Harry told him forcefully.  
  
Sirius looked around the ballroom, which was in shambles, and said, "Some Ministry personnel are on their way, but I don't see anyone ..."  
  
"What about Remus?"  
  
"He went with some off-duty Aurors to round up the ones who got away." said Sirius.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey?" asked Harry, brushing his fingers through Gilderoy's hair.  
  
"She's still at the school, Harry, but don't worry. Help will be here in a matter of moments, I'm sure." said Sirius, patting Harry's knee as he joined him on the floor. "His color looks good. Was he hit by a curse or a hex or that exploding spell?"  
  
"Explosion." said Harry, his teeth chattering. He didn't feel at all well. He had what felt like a stitch in his side, but was more likely a broken rib, and he still felt quite dazed from the fall he had taken. "I should have been looking out for him."  
  
"Harry, no one expected this attack, not tonight of all nights, not even Remus, and he thinks a good deal about these things being a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and all. Everyone did well tonight, Harry, including you, otherwise many lives might have been lost." said Sirius, gently slipping behind him and letting Harry rest against him as he continued to hold Gilderoy in his arms. "Everything's going to be all right." Sirius whispered in his ear.  
  
"Sirius ..."  
  
"Yes, Harry?" he asked.  
  
"Gilderoy was very brave. He killed that Death Eater." said Harry, nodding toward the fallen, bloody form.  
  
"Indeed?"  
  
"With just a summoning charm. I don't know how he managed it."  
  
"He has had good teachers." Sirius chuckled, watching Harry check his pulse again with trembling fingertips.  
  
"I wanted this to be a night to remember. Now it's turned into one that we won't be able to forget." said Harry, suddenly feeling very sleepy.  
  
"Harry? Are you all right?"  
  
Sirius's voice sounded very far away, and Harry suddenly found that he couldn't answer. It was like falling asleep only he was aware of the fact that he was drifting away and didn't really want to, and he couldn't quite muster the strength to fight it. Soon Sirius's voice had faded away and darkness had overpowered him.  
  
  
"I don't think he needs to go to the hospital. His hand will be fine. The ribs too. The concussion is not that severe. I can give him a healing potion. Then he just needs bed rest and lots of it." said a familiar feminine voice. It sounded very much like Poppy Pomfrey.  
  
"And Gilderoy?" questioned a kindly, but worried voice, his godfather.  
  
"Oh, he was just bruised up a bit. Then he fainted, I suspect." she said.  
  
"He should be coming around then."  
  
"Give him five minutes or so." said Pomfrey.  
  
Harry could feel something hard under his back. He was almost certain he was still lying on the floor. He could hear voices murmuring, some far and some near. He wrenched his eyes open to see two blurry shapes leaning over him.  
  
"Are you back with us, Harry?" questioned Sirius, slipping his glasses back on his face for him.  
  
"How long was I out?"  
  
"Barely ten minutes, right, Poppy?" said Sirius, looking nervously at Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Yes, something like that. Keep a watch on both of them. I have other patients to attend to." she warned him crisply.  
  
Harry turned his head and could see other mediwitches moving around the room, treating the numerous wounded. He glimpsed Ginny Weasley some distance away leaning over what appeared to be a pile of dark robes and a frock coat, or else an injured Professor Snape. Oliver Wood was sitting on the floor nearby with a cold compress to his head. His finance looked as though she had just been sick. Ron and Hermione were apparently tending to Percy, who had been in the thick of things, and Albus Dumbledore was right by their side. Ron looked as white as a sheet. Unfamiliar witches and wizards were scattered throughout the room in small clusters, taking care of the wounded, much like Sirius was doing. Many people Harry had seen earlier were missing, either out of sight or chasing the villains who had perpetrated this attack.  
  
"Is Gilderoy okay?" asked Harry, turning his head in the other direction to look at him where he lay upon his side nearby, just as he had been before Harry had passed out.  
  
"Poppy says that he just fainted, probably from the fright." Sirius reassured him, taking Harry's uninjured hand and giving it a squeeze.  
  
"Are you all right?" Harry asked.  
  
"Me? I was in the kitchen over there when it started. I was lucky. Good cover, you know?" chuckled Sirius, trying to summon his Gryffindor bravado.  
  
"Was anyone ... killed, Sirius?"  
  
"What kind of question is that? You should rest, Harry, until Poppy gets back with a potion for you."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Five." answered Sirius, knowing that Harry wouldn't relent until he knew. "And we were lucky. Those were the last of Voldemort's followers. The very last ones who had stayed hidden for a year. All they wanted to do was kill as many good wizards and witches as they could. I imagine they expected to kill a good many more than five." said Sirius.  
  
"Still ..."  
  
"Yes, very tragic."  
  
"Has Remus come back?" asked Harry.  
  
"No, and none of those that went out are likely to return before morning."  
  
"You didn't want to go too?"  
  
"Of course I wanted to go, but not everyone could. Someone had to stay and look after you and Gilderoy. Remus insisted. He insisted that someone look after our family. And he was too proud to remain behind. Too angry as well." said Sirius, helping Harry into a sitting position.  
  
Harry nodded slowly, understanding that beneath Remus's mild-manner exterior, there was a heart of both a lion and a werewolf, equally ferocious given the proper circumstances.  
  
Turning his attention to Gilderoy, he noticed that his lover's eyes were open. He brushed back the blond curls from his forehead.  
  
"Gilderoy?"  
  
He was unspeaking and unmoving. His eyes looked glassy and a little unfocused, almost as though Gilderoy was looking at something, but not anything that could be seen by the naked eye. His gaze had retreated inward perhaps.  
  
"I think he's in shock, Harry." said Sirius quietly. "No surprise really. He's a very gentle fellow and he just killed someone. Not to mention that explosion."  
  
"Gilderoy? Say something?" Harry begged, stroking his cheek.  
  
"There was a fellow in my year at school that accidentally set someone on fire. He was like this for days." said Sirius, watching as Gilderoy's eyelids flickered. "Madam Pomfrey should be back in a few minutes, Harry."  
  
"Gilderoy?" he questioned again.   
  
This was worse than the nightmares, far worse. Harry always knew the nightmares would end. Gilderoy was always rattled, always afraid, but he was never unable to express that fear. He was beginning to feel sick as he picked up one of Gilderoy's hands. He was cold to the touch. His wand hand was splattered with blood that was not his own.  
  
"Poppy's coming with the potions." said Sirius, nudging him as squeezed Gilderoy's hand.  
  
Harry shook his head. He didn't want a potion. He wanted to have his wits about him for Gilderoy's sake. Sirius gently pulled him away from Gilderoy and pressed a small bottle into his hands.  
  
"Drink up, Mister Potter. I dare say that you need it." said Madam Pomfrey before continuing on her way.  
  
"Why did the Ministry call upon her of all people?" grumbled Harry.  
  
"Dumbledore. He wanted her here. Now take your medicine." said Sirius. "He's safe. You don't have to worry now. Just drink the potion and have a nice nap."  
  
Harry looked at the concern in Sirius's eyes and nodded before drinking the concoction. His head and ribs ceased to ache immediately. He felt drowsy as Sirius took the bottle from his hand.  
  
"Keep an eye on him." said Harry tiredly.  
  
"Of course." Sirius agreed, putting an arm behind Harry who leaned against him and seemed to relax. "I hardly ever got to hold you as a child, Harry. Your mum was worried that I'd drop you on your head, and I wasn't around very often ... Then ... you know. I guess I can make up for part of that tonight." Sirius told him.  
  
Harry managed a smiled and said, "Yeah, I guess so." Then he closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.  
  
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A/N: If anyone thinks that the _accio glass!_ thing wouldn't work, it really depends on a lot of things (size of the shards, distance, how powerful the spell was, directional factors, other things having to with wizarding physics). I think it would also really require a hell of a lot of luck.   
  
  
shadowycat: The calm before the storm ... I like that. Obviously you were quite right. I hope I gave the right amount of foreshadowing (which is always difficult for me to judge, because on one hand I didn't want this to come totally out of nowhere, but I didn't want to lay it on too thick, so to speak). Daylight at the end ... *author starts to sweat* yeah, that would be great, wouldn't it? Okay, on Snape ... I think (a lot of the time) that his dislike of Harry and all things Potter-related extends beyond the war. So I don't think he could congratulate Harry on his good fortune of finding so handsome of a blond or anything. It's too difficult for me to see, and I have tried. I am a fan of Snape, really and truly I am, but I can't seem to _really_ work him into the story. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Variable Mog: Thank you for clearing up the pancake question! I'm glad you like the pairing. It's amazing how few people write about Gilderoy at all, or possibly how difficult it is to find their fics. Thanks!  
  
Michelle: I think the Sorting Hat is my favorite non-human character (and it is very weird that I consider it a character). I am glad that you found it inspired. *blushes* I have considerable difficulty writing Sirius because his parts in the books are so small. I think I say that almost any time someone mentions him. But I think he would have a great, off-kilter sense of humor. And anyone in love with Remus would have to be in touch with their romantic side, I think. I couldn't do the pink robes. I just couldn't. I am so, so sorry, but I hate pink. Thank you very much for your encouraging review!  
  
Star: I loved your comment about 'baby Snapes'. The mental image of all these small, dark-hared children following him around ... I can't stop giggling! Thanks a million! I've actually tried to hint toward a Ginny/Severus thing a couple of times, but I didn't want to explore it because it gets too far away from the core of the story. (Hypocritical, yes? What are Sirius and Remus doing in it then? A-ha!) Sorry. But thank you for the review and the suggestions!  
  
  



	20. The morning after

Chapter Twenty  
  
The morning after  
  
  
  
Morning light was beginning to pour into the ballroom. The air was still hazy with smoke from the attack. Remus Lupin rubbed his eyes as he walked into the room where many wizards and witches were still being attended or else waiting for a loved one to return from the search for the last of the Dark Lord's minions. Those who had escaped the ballroom had been caught and turned over to the Ministry. They would be filling cells in Azkaban prison before sunset. As his weary eyes surveyed the damage, the havoc they had created, it was a small comfort.  
  
His eyes finally rested upon Sirius, Harry, and Gilderoy. Remus smiled softly, sadly. They had survived, but even from a distance he could see the deep lines upon his dear Sirius's face. The youth of the previous evening had been trampled by anger, fear, and anguish. He had failed to protect his charge yet again. Harry was sleeping in his arms, at peace and mostly unharmed by the look of it. Gilderoy was lying nearby. Asleep too, he presumed.  
  
He walked across the glass strewn floor to join them, exhausted from a difficult night.  
  
"How goes it, Padfoot?" asked Remus, using his old nickname from their days as school boys and friends.  
  
Sirius shook his head and looked meaningfully at the young man asleep in his arms.  
  
"We should have warned him that they were still out there." said Sirius.  
  
"We thought they were fewer in number and disillusioned by the defeat of their master. No one wanted to worry him needlessly." said Remus.  
  
"They could have come for him at anytime. He could have been ..."  
  
"But he wasn't. They chose to make their final stand here."  
  
"We were lucky." said Sirius.  
  
"It doesn't happen often."  
  
"You caught them though. Tell me you caught every last one of them."  
  
"We did. Those that didn't die here last night."  
  
"Remus, I can drive a muggle car. I want to take them home. You wouldn't mind guarding them for a moment?"  
  
"Not at all. Go and get Harry's car. He deserves to recuperate in his own bed. I'll help you in any way I can." said Remus, taking Harry from Sirius's arms as he stood.  
  
"Thanks, Moony."  
  
  
The next thing that Harry knew, he was being buckled into the passenger seat of his car. He looked up sleepily, shivering in the cold morning air. Their cloaks had all been lost in the confusion. Sirius smoothed his hair and hushed him as he began to ask a question.  
  
"Home, Harry. I'm taking you home." he told him.  
  
"Gilderoy?" he questioned.  
  
Sirius's eyes looked over Harry's shoulder, and Harry followed his gaze. Professor Lupin was just carrying Gilderoy out of the ballroom. They had decided that a Mobilicorpus spell would have been too frightening for Gilderoy to endure in his altered state of consciousness. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he was not injured and would 'snap out of it' in due time. Remus gently deposited Gilderoy in the back seat before climbing in himself.  
  
"I want to see you home safely." said Remus, patting Harry's shoulder as Sirius got behind the wheel.  
  
"He isn't any better?" asked Harry.  
  
"No, not yet." said Sirius.  
  
"But don't worry. He will be just fine ... in time." said Remus.  
  
  
Harry felt only half awake until the arrived back at the Little Burrow. Sirius helped him out of the car and left him on the couch inside while he went back to fetch Gilderoy. Harry watched them carrying Gilderoy into the bedroom and felt his heart begin to pound. He was on his feet in an instant and stumbling into the bedroom. Sirius and Remus moved out of Harry's way as he walked over to the bed.  
  
"You might want to get him out of those clothes. There are bits of glass and the scent of Dark magic on them, not to mention the blood." said Remus.  
  
"Do you want any help, Harry?" asked Sirius, laying a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"No, I can take care of him now. Thanks for everything, for getting us home especially." said Harry.  
  
Remus made a dismissive gesture as he said, "It was the least we could do, Harry." "And Sirius was going this way." he added with a chuckle.  
  
"We have some things to discuss, Harry. Join us in the sitting room when you've attended to Gilderoy." said Sirius as they stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind them.  
  
Harry sat down on the bed with Gilderoy and softly sighed.  
  
"I am so sorry that this had to happen on our first real night out together. I'm sorry it happened at all." he said quietly.  
  
He lifted one of Gilderoy's arms and slipped it out of the sleeve of his robe. The other sleeve required some pulling and tugging. Gilderoy whimpered softly as Harry removed the robe.  
  
"I know. I know." Harry said, hushing him softly as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "I just have to get you undressed. Glass shards. Blood. Not nice to sleep in." he said.  
  
As he pulled one arm from the sleeve, Harry kissed his wrist and forearm softly. He could feel Gilderoy relax. His eyes were no longer unfocused, but there was a peculiar vacant expression in his blue eyes. Harry shivered as he looked into them, wondering if that haunted, vacant look would ever go away.  
  
Harry gently stripped him down to his underclothes, pausing to kiss and comfort him as needed. He draped a blanket around him and tucked him in carefully. Unimpeded by the layers of clothing, Gilderoy was trembling, but Harry could tell that it wasn't from the cold.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid. You're home now. Everything is going to be all right." Harry told him, caressing his cheek and his forehead.  
  
He sat there for a long time before he became aware of voices, Sirius and Remus, talking in the parlor.  
  
"I can't leave now, Moony. I only just moved in. And what's more, Harry ... and Gilderoy, they need someone older and stronger around after last night."  
  
"I didn't say that you should pick up and leave today. Just ... when everything is normal again. The loneliness is killing me."  
  
"Remus, you know I'm trying. I just want it to be right."  
  
"Maybe it is right. Or maybe it's as right as it will ever be. Last evening, you were Padfoot again. You were ..."  
  
"I know it, but things happen. Life happens. I do love you. You have to know that. I just ... I want it to be ..."  
  
"Perfect? Life is never perfect, Sirius. Look at those two in there."  
  
"I know. Poor Gilderoy."  
  
"Poor Gilderoy? He'll be fine. Don't you mean 'poor Harry', Sirius?"  
  
"You haven't seen it then."  
  
"What? What haven't I seen?" There was a hint of worry in Remus's voice.  
  
"The duel took a lot out of him."  
  
"Sirius, you can't be saying what I think you are. That he's dying?"  
  
"Not dying. Just ... worn beyond his years. Diminished."  
  
"It's the same thing isn't it?"  
  
"Not quite. Harry has a lot of life left in him. But it kills me to see anything happen to the boy, anything that might steal a few of those precious years from him."  
  
"A heavy burden, Padfoot."  
  
"Will you be saying good-bye before you leave?"  
  
"I had better." said Remus.   
  
A moment later there was a soft knock at the door.  
  
"Come in." Harry called, glancing down at Gilderoy. He thought he could see sorrow in his staring eyes. Had he overheard the conversation as well or was he too cut off from the world around him to hear and understand?  
  
Remus opened the door slowly and smiled as he looked at Harry and Gilderoy.  
  
"I must return to the school. There are things to be done and students to look after. I imagine the hospital wing will be full of students who got special permission to attend last night's festivities. There were quite a few of them there." said Remus.  
  
"And you will help look after them then?" asked Harry.  
  
"I always try to take care of my students. Sometimes I'm more successful than others." he said.  
  
"Don't beat yourself up, Remus. That's Sirius's area of expertise."  
  
"I know you have enough on your plate, Harry, but take care of him too, would you?" Remus asked quietly.  
  
"You know I will." answered Harry.  
  
"And let me know how Gilderoy is doing too."  
  
"Of course."  
  
  
Harry sat next to Gilderoy, gently rubbing his back and feeling the trembling slowly give way to calm as the morning wore on into the afternoon. He could hear the sound of Sirius snoring softly in the sitting room. He had been too exhausted to reach his bedroom, or else he wanted to remain close enough to keep watch on Harry and Gilderoy. Harry sighed as he ran his fingers through Gilderoy's hair.  
  
"Please, speak to me, Gilderoy. Tell me what I can do to help you. Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"I'm ... remembering." he whispered.  
  
"You're remembering?" questioned Harry, surprised to hear him speak at all and by what he had said.  
  
"Terrible things, Harry." Gilderoy said, deliberately turning his head away from him. He couldn't bear to look at Harry.  
  
"Tell me what you remember."  
  
"I cast spells ... on people ... that ... I don't know. I think I hurt them." said Gilderoy. His shoulders shook with silent sobs.  
  
Harry shook his head. He felt certain that it was the terror, the Dark magic, the violence of the night before that had unlocked some of Gilderoy's memories. Of all the memories to come back to him, why the worst ones? How could he explain that it was the memory charms that he had cast on others that he was remembering?  
  
"Gilderoy, you never hurt anyone. You altered memories. Nothing more." said Harry, trying to soothe him.  
  
"Last night I ..."  
  
"Saved our lives, Gilderoy. _You_ saved us both." Harry told him.  
  
"It was all so terrible. What happened at the ball. These memories. Harry ..." he choked.  
  
Harry recognized the sound and quickly summoned a small trash can from the bathroom, holding it out for Gilderoy as he dry heaved. He hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours.  
  
Harry hushed him and settled the blankets back around him. Brushing strands of blond hair from his sweat dampened forehead, he leaned down and kissed the lines of worry upon his face, lines that had not been there the day before.  
  
"Harry, you know all the things I did. How can you possibly love me?" Gilderoy asked as tears slid down his face.  
  
"Because I can see the good in you, the kindness, the foolishness, the gentle and loving person that you didn't always have the chance to be. I didn't fall in love with the man who did those bad things. I fell in love with _you_." Harry told him patiently.  
  
"But I was that person." sobbed Gilderoy.  
  
"Are you now?"  
  
"I ... don't know."  
  
"Take it from me. You have changed. I promise that you have, Gilderoy."  
  
Gilderoy wiped his eyes and pulled Harry into his arms, and softly said, "Harry, I hope I can live up to your faith in me."  
  
"I know you will. You haven't let me down yet." said Harry, squeezing the back of his neck and kissing him before letting him go.  
  
Standing in the doorway, awakened by their conversation, Sirius left them alone, his soft footsteps unnoticed. He shook his head. The road ahead would not be easy for either of them. If the memory charm was breaking, who could say what its effects would be. Nightmares? Possibly illness and despair that could not be thwarted by kind words alone. And Harry was fragile too. Harry was strong and yet still breakable. And Gilderoy was proving to be both help and hindrance. Harry needed love, affection, comfort, all the things that Gilderoy could provide. But he certainly could do without the worry and anxiety and the fear.  
  
"Life is never perfect." murmured Sirius as he went to putter about in the kitchen. What Remus had said was all too true.  
  
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A/N: I've got nothing.  
  
  
InchySquinchy: I went back and checked to be sure, but I never said that Seamus and Fred were together. Harry and Fred, yes (briefly). But thanks for asking as I do have a tendency to forget my own details from time to time. As for Harry's powers and so forth and Voldemort, of course that's just speculation! This is fan fiction. I don't know anything. I'm just a pessimist who writes. I don't know how it will go down in the books (and I feel pretty confident that Harry will defeat Voldemort - I'm not that pessimistic). I'm afraid I don't get the reference in one of your reviews: Foggy Dewhurst. I must have missed out on something a long the way. I don't think I've ever heard of anyone actually being a Ron fan. That's kind of cool. It's always nice to find someone in books that we can relate to. And LotR is great! I've been obsessed for a while (since I was eleven). Thank you so much for the reviews!  
  
shadowycat: Well, I didn't want to call them Death Eaters as there weren't so many people in the inner circle and they would have been easier to hunt down since Harry knew who they were (I'm making a leap of faith from the end of GoF here). But Voldemort must have had lesser supporters. I make that assumption because there were probably spies in the Ministry, like Ludo Bagman was accused of being. And they would have been harder to find and arrest. Of course, I'm also thinking that Voldemort would have had supports and admirers among the young (though I didn't want Draco Malfoy to be one of them; I think he's redeemable). So they wouldn't technically be Death Eaters, just fanatics wearing the right outfits. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	21. To soothe the nerves

Chapter Twenty-one  
  
To soothe the nerves  
  
  
  
Gilderoy awoke screaming for the next two nights in a row. For the first time it wasn't about the hospital, it was about the ball and about the things that he remembered. Harry was strongly considering giving him a dreamless sleep potion so that he could rest more easily. Gilderoy refused. He wanted them to subside naturally, earnestly believing that they would in time. Harry couldn't argue with him. He had advised Gilderoy against relying on potions himself.  
  
The first night Sirius had come in, looking haunted and afraid and armed with his wand. His first thought had been Death Eaters, or more accurately, former supporters of Voldemort that had taken up the robes and masks after their master's defeat, intent upon revenge. He watched Gilderoy thrash in the last throes of the nightmares with wide eyes as Harry stood by.  
  
"Shouldn't you ..." Sirius began to ask.  
  
"No, it only makes it worse for him. I learned that early on. He's got to come out of it himself." Harry told him. The strain and anguish were chiseled with deep strokes upon the features of his young face.  
  
"Can I do anything?" asked Sirius.  
  
"Could you fetch him a glass of water, please? I want to stay with him and ..."  
  
"Of course." Sirius nodded, disappearing into the kitchen.  
  
Sirius had returned with a glass of wine instead, remembering the nights he had spent in Remus's care several years earlier.  
  
"For your nerves." Remus had said, pressing it into his hands and wiping the sweat from his brow.  
  
"For his nerves." Sirius echoed when Harry looked at the glass in his hand.  
  
"Will it help?" asked Harry.   
  
The nightmare had subsided, and it appeared the Gilderoy wouldn't be throwing up. He was shivering beneath the bedclothes with a vacant expression on his face.  
  
"Possibly." said Sirius as Harry took the glass from his hands.  
  
"I don't want any potions." said Gilderoy, turning his head away as Harry pressed the glass to his lips.  
  
"It isn't." Harry assured him.  
  
Gilderoy drank it and settled back against the pillow.  
  
"Love?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes, Gilderoy."  
  
"You can go back to sleep."  
  
The next night, after it was all over, he had said the same thing. He had not been sick, though he was ghostly pale and would not speak of his dreams, not even to Harry in the morning.  
  
On the third night Gilderoy awaken without screaming, without crying out in terror, without awakening Harry.  
  
Harry awoke during the night and felt cool sheets against his skin. He was fully alert in an instant. Gilderoy was nowhere in sight. Harry crept from bed and walked into the sitting room where he found Gilderoy sitting on the couch in front of the fire, sipping a glass of wine. Harry could see that his hands were shaking very badly.  
  
The soft rustle of fabric caused Harry to turn. Sirius was leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, watching them both.  
  
"He's getting better, Harry." Sirius whispered.  
  
"Is he?" Harry whispered back.  
  
"He didn't scream tonight."  
  
"The light in his eyes has been snuffed out."  
  
"The wide-eyed innocence was bound to disappear. He will get over it in due time."  
  
"I wish ..."  
  
"I know. Remus ... once said something to the same effect. He wished that my eyes hadn't lost their spark too."  
  
"I can hear you, you know." said Gilderoy from the couch, taking a sip of wine from his glass.  
  
"Sorry." said Harry.  
  
"So am I. Didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"I don't mind." said Harry.  
  
Sirius snorted softly and returned to his room.  
  
"Come back to bed." Harry said to him.  
  
"Will I ever really get better?" Gilderoy asked, staring at the fire.  
  
"I believe that you will in time."  
  
"Every time I close my eyes, I see myself doing those terrible things ... all for the sake of fame and money. I try to rationalize what I did. I try to tell myself that it was so long ago. I try, Harry, and I fail. And I'm afraid."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"I don't know. Something. Everything." said Gilderoy, finishing his glass of wine. Harry had the feeling that it wasn't his first. He seemed unsteady on his feet as he left the couch.  
  
"Tell me what I can do to help you."  
  
"Cast another memory charm on me. Make me oblivious again. Let me remember you and only you." he said, a pleading look in his eyes.  
  
"I can't do that."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because ... Oh, Gilderoy, because I'm afraid that your mind can't stand another charm, because I don't have the skill in that area, because what would we do when it eventually unravels too? Because magic isn't always the answer." said Harry.  
  
Gilderoy nodded slowly and his shoulders slumped. Harry could see that he understood the answers he had been given.  
  
"Please come back to bed."  
  
"All right." said Gilderoy, setting his wine glass on the coffee table.  
  
  
The next day they resumed their schedule of writing and teaching, but Gilderoy refused to have any more dance lessons and Harry could understand why. Oftentimes in the evening Remus would talk to them using the fireplace, always checking on Sirius and Harry especially, though he had developed a special fondness for his young friend's lover, who seemed to be on the mend. Gilderoy helped Harry with his writing as much as possible, and those memoirs were finally taking shape. Harry was rather proud of them, due in part to Sirius and Gilderoy's lavish, but not undeserved praise.  
  
The weeks began to pass swiftly after that, and Harry and Gilderoy began to tick off the days until Quidditch season began and Harry would join up with his teammates for practice well before their first official game, almost a month away. Sirius had agreed to come to all the games, but Harry would only be taking Gilderoy with him to the practices and so forth. And Gilderoy was rather excited about that, finally shrugging off the pallor that had hung over him for several weeks following the disastrous ball.  
  
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A/N: The author is aware that drinking is not the answer to ones problems. Sorry that this one's short.  
  
  
Michelle: Your intuition is probably not too far from the truth. I think Sirius and Remus have a couple more hurdles to jump before everything works out for them, but compared to Harry and Gilderoy ... I think their situation looks pretty good. I have this book called (and don't let this scare you) "On Killing" that I was forced to read for a sociology (of war and the military) class. It concurs: it is difficult to kill, even in self-defense, and that in most of the population there would be profound psychological repercussions. I'm glad that you like my pairings and writing style. That is always nice to hear. Sirius has the advantage of perspective. He can look at Harry and Gilderoy more objectively than Harry can. Maybe that's one of the reasons I keep him around. Pink is awful, but I suppose it would have been funny. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
shadowycat: Sorry to hear that you're having trouble uploading. I find that the site goes down whenever I really need to upload too. I think Sirius is beginning to understand. They're doing things almost right whereas Harry and Gilderoy leapt before they looked, not that that is always a bad thing. 'Similarities trigger memory after all.' I totally agreed. I remember reading something to that effect somewhere about being depressed and thinking of depressing things and so forth. And you are so right: Gilderoy is definitely in for a struggle. I just don't know how that struggle will end yet. Thank you very much for the review!  
  
  



	22. Lockhart Manor

Chapter Twenty-two  
  
Lockhart Manor  
  
  
  
"Harry, I think I'm ready to see it." Gilderoy said suddenly one morning as they all ate breakfast together.  
  
"See what?" asked Harry, frowning.  
  
"Lockhart Manor."  
  
Gilderoy had not said a word about the manor since the keys had arrived with his wand weeks before. Harry had expected him to ask sooner, but the entire matter had slipped his mind because of recent events.  
  
"Fine. Do you want to drive out today?" Harry questioned.  
  
Sirius snorted softly and went back to the book he was reading as he ate, muttering, "Count me out."  
  
"What about our schedule? The lessons and everything?"  
  
"We deserve a day off." said Harry. "And it looks like a wonderful day for a drive in the country." he added.  
  
There was no mistake about that. It was unseasonably warm and particularly sunny that morning as Gilderoy and Harry sped away from the Little Burrow, leaving Sirius to his books, a luxury that he had sorely missed in Azkaban. He was pursuing his studies again with a renewed fervor, claiming that his skills had been in decline while incarcerated. Gilderoy and Harry were pursuing other ends.  
  
Harry believed that if Gilderoy saw his childhood home, perhaps he would remember happy times there, although there was certainly the risk that he would remember the attack of the Dark Wizards upon his parents. But it was Gilderoy's risk to take and he was going into the situation full willing.  
  
  
The trip was a pleasant one, though Harry had insisted upon dressing in less outlandish wizarding costume than Gilderoy considered normal. They folded their robes up and packed them away in the trunk since they would be using muggle roadways for the journey. Harry was far more accustomed to how things were done in the muggle world than most wizards, having been raised by muggles, but he had not set foot in their world to any large degree since leaving school, except, of course, for the little hamlet wherein he bought his groceries. As he saw the situation, they could put on robes when they arrived at the manor, the address of which had been easy to come by. It would not do, after all, to be dressed in full wizarding attire if they happened to be stopped by a policeman.  
  
The road leading to the manor, a private drive from a small and seldom used country lane, was overgrown with brown grass because of disuse and also quite bumpy, though still very much passable. Harry was rather certain that there were muggle repelling charms in place as no wizarding estate was safe without them.   
  
As they approached, Harry slowed to a stop at a closed gate that stood before a large gray stone house. The windows were dark, but all intact. After so many years, it would not have been at all unusual to find one broken either by a storm or other causes, non-muggle prowlers for instance. The yard appeared to have been trimmed and raked late in the summer or earlier in the autumn. The grass was no nearly so high as that on the drive had been.  
  
"Do you recognize it, Gilderoy?" Harry questioned as they sat in the car before the wrought iron gate, gazing at the rather grand old house.  
  
"I ... I can't say for certain, Harry. I don't remember, but it looks familiar somehow." Gilderoy replied, fiddling with the box in his lap, the box containing the keys to his ancestral home.  
  
"Ready to go inside then?" asked Harry, reaching to open the car door.  
  
"Yes." Gilderoy nodded before they both left the car.  
  
  
The gate opened with a simple turn of a key in the lock and squeaked loudly as it swung open. Harry noted absently that it could do with a bit of grease or something. He was far too busy inspecting the grounds, eyeing the windows, and watching Gilderoy to give it much thought.  
  
"Should I knock?" Gilderoy asked when they reached the great oaken doors of the manor house, which were inlaid with pale gold that still gleamed in the sunlight.  
  
"It looks deserted, and it is your house. Just open the doors." Harry shrugged.  
  
Unlike the gate, the doors opened soundlessly and with only a slight push. Gilderoy pocketed the keys and stepped inside with Harry at his elbow.  
  
Harry had expected the house to smell musty at the very least, but he frowned as he took a deeper breath. It smelled clean. The floor under his feet had been polished to a high shine, and the air was relatively free of dust. It was quite extraordinary.  
  
"A charm of some kind?" he wondered silently, looking around the dimly lit foyer.   
  
To their left and right there were doors and directly before them, a spiraling staircase leading to the upper floor of the manor house. The doors were closed and the top of the stairs was shrouded in shadows.  
  
"This was my home?" Gilderoy questioned quietly.  
  
"So they say." said Harry.  
  
Gilderoy spun around, taking in his surroundings, which while hardly opulent were much more lavish and rich than Harry's little cottage. There were tapestries on the wall, though in the dusky light, they could not make out their design, and ornamental candle holders of silver and gold with fresh, unlit candles in them.  
  
"Lovely place, isn't it?" said Gilderoy with a smile.  
  
Suddenly there was the sound of small feet on the stairs, both Harry and Gilderoy froze. The manor wasn't deserted after all!  
  
"Master is home! His most excellent handsomeness is returning at long last!" squealed a voice that Harry knew immediately belonged to a house elf.  
  
The little creature came running down the stairs with hurried, happy steps. She, judging by the voice, was wearing a dress that appeared to also be a small and rather splendid red table cloth, holding up the hem as she scooted down the stairs. Her eyes were honey-brown and especially large with excitement.  
  
Gilderoy squealed, nearly matching the pitch of the house elf's voice, as she wrapped herself around his leg.  
  
"What is this thing, Harry?" he questioned, instantly trying to shake her off.  
  
"A house elf." answered Harry, laughing at his reaction.  
  
The little elf popped off Gilderoy's leg and curtsied before she said, "Bell is ready to served her beloved master again! Bell is hoping that master has come to stay, yes?"  
  
"Bell? That's your name?" Gilderoy questioned.  
  
The elf suddenly looked distraught as she replied, "Master is forgetting Bell when he named Bell himself when he not much bigger than a house elf."  
  
"Your master has been through a lot, Bell. He was ... sick for a very long time and even now his memory isn't so good." Harry explained, kneeling to be at her eye level.  
  
"Ah, master, is bringing young man home. It is being a very long time." said Bell approvingly. "Why if master sick, he not come home? Bell could be taking care of everything for him." she said, reaching and taking Gilderoy's hand.  
  
Gilderoy looked imploringly at Harry who had stood up again.  
  
"No one knew that Gilderoy has such a faithful house elf or he certainly would have been brought straight here." said Harry with a grin.  
  
"Yes, that must be it." said Gilderoy.  
  
"So master is still not remembering Bell? Maybe master should give Bell a new name, one he is remembering. Bell's mother Finny is always telling her that Bell is being too fine a name for her. At least until that day ..." said Bell, her ears drooping. "Poor master and mistress!" she sighed.  
  
"You were here when Gilderoy's parents were killed?" asked Harry.  
  
"Bell was here. Finny hid Bell and little master when shouting started in downstairs of house. Locked Bell and young master in secret closet. We was staying there together until house quiet. Nobody left but Bell and poor little master." said Bell, her eyes brimming with tears.  
  
Harry thought of the article he had read about the Lockharts, Celeste and Godfrey, and how the Ministry was unsure of how Gilderoy had escaped harm. It wasn't necessarily kindness or honor. The attackers simply couldn't find him, thanks to a devoted house elf named Finny and her daughter.  
  
Gilderoy dropped to one knee and said, "Much of my life is a mystery to me, but thank you, Bell. I am very grateful."  
  
"It is part of a house elf's duty, master, but if I was anything else, I is helping you anyway. And so was my mother. She fought beside master and mistress and died with them as well." said Bell proudly. "House elves is not being good at fighting, but Finny I is told was very brave."  
  
"I'm sure she was." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Is kind and wonderfully good-looking master here to stay now? Bell is waiting long time for his return." she said hopefully.  
  
"You don't have to call me those things." said Gilderoy, though he was obviously very flattered by her extravagant praise.  
  
"Silly master! Of course Bell is saying what master wants to hear! I remember the words exactly like you wanted when last you was here." she said.  
  
"When was that?"  
  
"Seven years ago. Before master is going to become great and famous professor."  
  
"Bell, did Gilderoy live here for a long time before he went away?" asked Harry.  
  
"We was living here fifteen happy years. Master was traveling quite often though. But the house was always in order for master's return."  
  
"I can't imagine it being otherwise." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Is master and his friend wanting tea? They is looking famished and in need of a little something to be tiding them over until supper." said Bell.  
  
"That would be delightful." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Master is sounding more like self! Tea is being served in parlor in just a moment." said Bell, gesturing toward a door to their right before disappearing.  
  
"Fascinating!" said Gilderoy.  
  
"House elves are that." chuckled Harry in agreement.  
  
  
When Gilderoy and Harry stepped into the parlor, they were unaware of what awaited them there. The room was filled with bright, freshly lit candles that illuminated a large chamber with a high ceiling and windows that, if they had noticed, looked out over the garden outside. There was a hearth with an immense, high-backed comfortable chair with a footstool in front of it. Two long couches that were a lovely shade of green sat in the glow of the windows, one facing out and the other facing in with an impressive, stone coffee table in between. But none of this was shocking.  
  
The things that extracted an audible gasp from Gilderoy were the paintings. They were all of him in various costume. Over the mantle he was dressed in riding clothes with his hand on the neck of a unicorn. By the windows he was decked out in wintry wizarding clothes with snow in his hair. On the other side of the windows he was dressed to the nines in fantastically elaborate formal robes and standing in a ballroom. Above the door was a painting of him in jaunty casual clothes, reclining on one of the green sofas in an almost seductive pose. To the left of that one hung a painting of him in a dark black cape over white and silver robes, holding a wooden stake delicately in both hands.  
  
And they were all smiling incredibly fake smiles and staring right at him.  
  
Gilderoy wobbled on his feet as though he were about to faint and stepped backward into Harry, who was gawking at the images on the walls. Harry caught him by the arm, and they silently backed out of the parlor.  
  
"Get me out of here!" Gilderoy demanded in a raspy voice.  
  
"What about Bell and our tea?"  
  
"Forget them! Get me out of this house!" he pleaded, seizing a handful of Harry's shirt.  
  
"Fine, fine." Harry agreed, taking his hand and leading him through the foyer and out of the house and into the crisp autumn air.  
  
"Those eyes! That smile! Do I look like that?" he asked as Harry escorted him to the car.  
  
"Of course not. You look much nicer." Harry assured him. "Now let's go home before you have a heart attack or something."  
  
~  
  
Two days before they were scheduled to leave for Quidditch practice, which was going to be held in a secluded area a few hours away by car, and long after the shock of their trip to the manor had worn off, Sirius went to Hogwarts to have 'a romantic dinner' with Remus, leaving Harry and Gilderoy alone for the evening and perhaps the night. As was in keeping with their daily routine, which was seldom interrupted, Harry sat at the typewriter and worked on his book with Gilderoy sitting nearby, listening and offering suggestions as Harry asked for them. His reading skills had greatly improved with practice, or perhaps partly due to the return of some of his memory, though certainly not all of it.  
  
"Harry, I heard something while I was ... incapacitated after the ball that I've wanted to ask you about." said Gilderoy as Harry sank back against the couch, removing the paper from the typewriter.  
  
"Go ahead." said Harry.  
  
"I heard Sirius and Remus talking about you ... They seemed to think that you weren't well. I don't want to make a fuss, but if you aren't well, should you really be playing Quidditch?" he questioned.  
  
"Love, I'm touched." Harry chuckled. "But to tell you the truth, they worry too much. I'm fine." he said.  
  
Gilderoy looked both relieved and skeptical as he asked, "Are you sure?"  
  
"Quite. Oh, I tire easily sometimes, maybe a bit faster than some men my age, but I have felt better recently. You've seen me on my broom. Fast as ever."  
  
"Yes, but ..."  
  
"It's nothing to worry about." said Harry.  
  
"If you say so, but I ..." Gilderoy began to say, glancing at the typewriter and then the floor. "I worry that you won't be around. That I'll lose you."  
  
Harry left the couch and knelt by Gilderoy's chair.  
  
Taking his hand, he told him, "You don't have to worry. I mean that. I plan to be around for a long time to come, no matter what anybody else says. I was planning to tell you something. I wanted it to be after you saw me win my first Quidditch match, but now is as good a time as any." Harry fumbled for something in his robe pocket, something that he had hidden there days earlier. "I love you and ... and I want you to be my husband. I want us to grow old together."  
  
Harry slipped a simple gold band onto Gilderoy's finger as tears came to their eyes.  
  
"Harry, I never thought you. I mean, this means that you want me to be with you forever, doesn't it?" asked Gilderoy.  
  
"If you're willing. We could have a ceremony and everything. I know Sirius and Remus would want us to." he said, babbling as he wiped the tears from his eyes.  
  
"I am willing, Harry. I want to be yours forever, and you to be mine, and for us to be one another's." he laughed, pulling Harry to his feet and kissing him.  
  
"I love you." said Harry, breaking the kiss for just a moment, just long enough to say it.  
  
"And I love you. Forever."  
  
"Let's not waste a night with the place to ourselves." said Harry with an impish grin, pulling Gilderoy toward their bedroom.  
  
  
Gilderoy was sleeping soundly, and in Harry's opinion that was always a good thing. Harry shifted slightly as he held his lover close, his arms wrapped around his waist. The world seemed to only consist of warmth and comfort and the two of them in their bed. Then why couldn't he sleep?  
  
"I wanted to wait, but everything is rushing ahead again." Harry thought, looking at the ring on Gilderoy's finger. He did a quick calculation and realized that they had known each other just slightly less than three months.   
  
"Fast." thought Harry. "Are you doubting the decision already?" he asked himself. Harry shifted again and looked at Gilderoy's sleeping face. "Not at all. Just ... worried. About him and about us." Harry thought, settling against the pillow and closing his eyes.  
  
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A/N: The end of the story is in sight, but I'm having trouble writing it (in a manner of speaking).  
  
  
LastOneDizzy: Thank you very much for your very complimentary review!  
  
  



	23. Before the season begins

Chapter Twenty-three  
  
Before the season begins  
  
  
  
The practice grounds for the national Quidditch team were protected by anti-muggle charms in addition to being relatively secluded. Harry, decked on his Quidditch robes, and Gilderoy, wearing a warm cloak against the chill, arrived at the pitch just an hour after sunrise for a full day of practice. Many of the team had camped out overnight as a matter of tradition and left their tents to greet their new seeker as soon as they heard the sound of his car, which was a fascinating muggle contraption that a few of them had never had the chance to examine up close.  
  
"Nice set of wheels, Harry." said the team captain, Arnie Blackwood.  
  
"Thanks, Arnie." he replied, taking his broom from the back seat.   
  
As the team gathered around a few of them hesitated glances at Gilderoy, who was shivering slightly from the cold. Harry had taught him a rudimentary warming charm, but expressly told him not to use it in the vicinity of flammable objects, including his car, broom, and other people. He had only set himself on fire once, but that had been enough for Harry, though it had only singed Gilderoy's robes. He had not even panicked, for which both Harry and Sirius had been extremely grateful.  
  
"Harry, will you take us for a ride in that later?" asked the team's twenty-one-year-old blond beater with an eager expression on his face.  
  
"Sure, Neil. I'd be glad to." said Harry. "Oh, and I want you fellows to meet Gilderoy. He's going to be my husband." he told them, putting his arm around Gilderoy.  
  
With a few handshakes and glad-to-meet-you's, Gilderoy was welcomed into the fold, though a few of the older team members shook their heads in sad amazement when they found out that Gilderoy had never, to the best of his knowledge, played Quidditch. Harry had yet to get him on a broom either.  
  
"Just give it some time, Harry. I know you can bring him around." said Arnie, slapping Gilderoy on the back. "Now, it's time to get up in the air." he said, never one to waste words.  
  
  
It was a very windy day for Quidditch, but since the sport was played in all weather, teams practiced in all weather too, no matter the cold, the wind, or any other climatic condition. Harry enjoyed the freedom of being on a broom, of holding it steady with the wind and against it as he sought out the practice Snitch and watched the others fighting off the Bludger and tossing the Quaffle about with timed precision. From time to time Harry glanced down at Gilderoy at the edge of the pitch, watching with great interest and a happy, carefree smile.  
  
With the reserve members of the team acting as the opposition, they played several games of Quidditch thorough the day, pausing only for lunch and a spot of afternoon tea during which they talked strategy and Blackwood, who was a chaser in addition to captain, gave advice regarding technique to the other chasers. Gilderoy joined them, listening to all the Quidditch talk with great interest.  
  
"We're going to be playing Ireland first this year, which is a bit of a disappointment." Arnie told them, pulling the season schedule from within his robes.  
  
"Troy, Mullet, and Moran." murmured one of the chasers, hanging his head slightly.  
  
"Don't say it like that! It's been five years! Count 'em. Five years since Ireland won the Cup. They aren't invincible, you know." said Blackwood shortly.  
  
"Fine. Where are we playing them?" asked Neil.  
  
"Here. Well, not literally here, but in England." answered Blackwood.  
  
"How does Potter here rate against their seeker?" asked Jack Ames, the team's keeper.  
  
Arnie grinned and said, "I went along with the scout to see him play in school. I'd say better, much better."  
  
"Aidan Lynch? You think I'm better than him?" asked Harry, nearly choking on his food.  
  
Blackwood laughed and said, "No, but Lynch got addled in a crash last season. Surprised you didn't hear. He gave up the game. He's advertising for racing brooms now. Their new seeker is a former player for the Harpies. She's good, but she's no Aidan Lynch."  
  
"And," Harry added silently, "he was no Viktor Krum."  
  
  
The team practiced almost every day. Harry and Gilderoy would leave the Little Burrow early in the morning and return late into the evening. As Harry could no longer continue Gilderoy's magical training because he was too exhausted to do so at night, Harry made certain that his lover had books to study while he practiced. One day a week Gilderoy would stay home with Sirius to practice his spells and to give Sirius the chance to teach.   
  
Sirius spent much of his time with Professor Lupin at Hogwarts, helping with classes and spending time with his close friend. Sirius was considering applying for the a position at Hogwarts, which Remus predicted would be that of transfigurations as the esteemed Professor McGonagall would soon be becoming headmistress. Dumbledore, having seen the beginning of days of peace and tranquillity, was going to retire soon. And Sirius was certainly qualified when it came to transfigurations.  
  
It was during the evening a few days before the first game of the season when Sirius made his announcement. Harry was just finishing up the first draft of his memoirs, which looked wonderful, despite the fact that he had hardly had the time or energy for them in the previous month. Gilderoy was studying a fascinating text on Defense Against the Dark Arts, which his soon-to-be husband hoped was more for general knowledge than future practical application. Sirius left his seat by the hearth and cleared his throat. Harry, who had been dozing, sat up and yawned.  
  
"Remus asked me moved into his rooms at Hogwarts. And this time I said yes. What can I say? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." Sirius told them.  
  
A wide grin spread over Harry's face as he said, "Congratulations, Sirius! I'm so happy for you." Part of him wanted to beg Sirius, to tell him, "No, you can't leave until Gilderoy and I get married in January." But he only smiled and tried to tell himself that they would be fine without his guidance, strength, and cooking.  
  
"Harry, it's at partly due to your influence. I don't think I would have left my apartment in London if you hadn't asked me to come here. And, well, thanks for everything." said Sirius.  
  
"I don't think we could have managed without you these past few months. If you ever want to come and stay with us again, you are always welcome, Sirius." Harry told him sincerely.  
  
"Well, with any luck, I won't need to, but Remus and I will certainly visit."  
  
"I know I will miss you." said Gilderoy.  
  
"Don't worry. I'll be around so often that it will seem like I haven't left at all."  
  
  
With some assistance, Sirius was moved out by the night before the England versus Ireland game, and both Harry and Gilderoy were sorry to see him go. He had been a wonderful friend, teacher, godfather, and a really excellent fellow in a pinch. Harry was certain that he would have gone mad without Sirius to lean on during troubled times. And yet he was truly happy for him and for Remus. They were finally going to be together and have time to enjoy one another without the mistrust of the war or grief and guilt that followed its final end.  
  
And they had promised to come to the game as well. It was a Hogsmeade weekend at the school, which meant that Remus had a break from his assigned duties as well. Harry had arranged for them to have excellent seats on England's side of the pitch along with Gilderoy, who was quite eager to see Harry play after watching so many practice games.  
  
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	24. Fateful day

Chapter Twenty-four  
  
Fateful day  
  
  
  
The day of the game was overcast and several members of the team were saying that rain was a possibility as they all stood near the locker room, leaning on their brooms and speculating about the condition of the skies. The wind had died down a bit, but there were still unexpected gusts. Harry glanced into the stands and saw Gilderoy, Remus, and Sirius, the later two of whom had apparated in from Hogsmeade. They were all sporting team colors, blue and red, in support of the home team. Harry grinned as he watched Sirius and Remus pinning on buttons as well. He stood there watching them until Blackwood nudged him.  
  
"Get your head in the game, Potter." he warned sternly before grinning and laughing. "Oh, go on, take a nice long look. He is very easy on the eyes for his age." said Arnie.  
  
"For any age." chuckled Harry.  
  
"Yeah. Say, are you bringing him with you to France in just two days, assuming that they beat Armenia?"  
  
"He was at almost every practice. He wouldn't miss a game for anything."  
  
"Good." he nodded. "We're up now."  
  
"Let's get going then." said Harry.  
  
  
From their seats, Remus, Sirius, and Gilderoy cheered wildly as England's team took to the air. A familiar voice, that of Lee Jordan, began calling out the names of the players as both teams took their positions.  
  
"_And here comes the new seeker for England, Harry Potter._"  
  
The crowd, both supporters of England and Ireland, cheered for the Boy-Who-Lived, the young man who had saved them all from Voldemort a little more than a year earlier. Even the most avid Quidditch fan could not begrudge him that. Of course, when the balls were put into play, that would be forgotten, but for the moment Harry Potter was famous for other things besides just Quidditch.  
  
"_And the game begins! Andrews has the Quaffle! Andrews to Blackwood! Blackwood rushes to score! Denied! Ryan blocks nicely! The Quaffle goes to ...Troy!_"  
  
Gilderoy thought he had seen Quidditch when he saw Hufflepuff beat Gryffindor or when the team went all out one day during a rainy practice session, but this was ten times more gut-wrenching and the speed of it all made his heart pound.  
  
"_Troy to Mullet to ...! Wait! That was a close one! Blackwood has the Quaffle again. Can he score this time?_"  
  
A Bludger hit by Neil Abernathy, the blond beater who had wanted a ride in Harry's car, had nearly scalped Mullet, giving Blackwood an opportunity that would have been unheard of just a few years before. He seized it and the ball, diving toward the opposing team's goal with both Irish beaters on his tail.  
  
"_England scores!_"  
  
Ryan had been unable to block Blackwood's speedy and powerful throw. The first points of the game went to England.  
  
"_Moran has the Quaffle!_"  
  
"I say, Harry's team looks awfully good out there." Gilderoy said to Sirius over the crowd.  
  
"That they do. Ireland's team sat on their duffs too long after they won that Cup." said Sirius in agreement.  
  
Pointing upward toward Harry, he asked, "How long do think it will be before Harry spots the Snitch?"  
  
Sirius shrugged, "You can never tell. But look at that poor girl on Ireland's team. She looks far too desperate. Now look at Harry. Relaxed, but attentive. A true seeker."  
  
Gilderoy smiled as he saw what Sirius meant. Harry was gliding back and forth across the pitch, scouring the ground and keeping an eye on the Irish seeker. His movements were methodical. He wasted no energy, save to dodge an occasional Bludger, which were few because of the intensity of the game below him. It was like watching a master at work. There was something almost artistic about it.  
  
"_Ireland scores! The Quaffle goes to Troy. Mullet! Troy again? And denied! Ames blocks that shot effortlessly. Blackwood! Tibbs! Blackwood! Tibbs! These guys know their stuff. Another goal for jolly old England!_"  
  
Gilderoy suddenly found himself on his feet with the crowd, applauding the tremendous teamwork that the chasers had just shown.  
  
The game progressed with Ireland rallying and racking up a few points using their powerful Hawkshead Attacking Formation, which England just couldn't seem to stop. England was relying on the strength of their team captain. It was proving to be a long game, at least from Gilderoy's perspective. Ireland was leading by sixty points despite England's best efforts when the announcer began to bellow:  
  
"_The Snitch has been spotted! The Snitch has been spotted!_"  
  
Gilderoy looked up just in time to see both Harry and Magilly, the Irish seeker, dive toward the center of the pitch like two bolts of lightning, one blue and one green as they streaked toward the earth. Gilderoy felt his heart in his throat as they dived at full speed toward the ground.  
  
"It has to be a feint." Sirius muttered, though he had missed who had initiated it. Such things usually weren't Harry's style.  
  
Gilderoy felt his eyes close as they approached the ground. There was a sickening thud, louder and harder than when the Gryffindor seeker had been unseated at the house match. Half the crowd cheered, and half the crowd wailed. But they suddenly seemed too far away to hear them properly.  
  
"Harry?" he questioned.  
  
Just before he fainted.  
  
  
To Sirius's credit, he was the first notice that Gilderoy had passed out and toppled between the seats even as Remus and he were applauding England's win. That had been no feint. Harry had spotted the Snitch first and had done what he had to do to catch it. Magilly had hit the ground with so much force that her broom, a Firebolt 3000 from the third year of its production, snapped in half under her hands just before she hit the ground too. Her predecessor had walked away from at least a dozen such crashes, but many in the stands wonder if Magilly would prove as hardy. The mediwitches flooding the field looked rather grim. But Harry had caught the Snitch.  
  
"I think he's fainted!" yelled Sirius to Remus over the screams of the nearby fans, who were watching their national team take a victory lap around the pitch with Potter holding the Snitch high even as he glanced down at Magilly and the medics with a worried expression.  
  
"Fainted?" questioned Remus, leaning around Sirius, who was prodding Gilderoy with his shoe.  
  
Sirius knelt and shook Gilderoy as he rolled him onto his back between the narrow bleachers. Suddenly he felt something sticky and damp on his fingers. It was blood.  
  
"He caught his head on the way down. Get a mediwizard, Remus." he told his companion, holding up his fingers.  
  
"Right." he nodded, eyes widening as he dashed to find one in the crowded arena.  
  
Sirius looked out over the field at Harry, who was just finishing his lap with his teammates and was searching the crowd for his family. Their eyes met as Harry swung closer to the stands, unable to find Sirius and Remus or perhaps more importantly Gilderoy. Sirius, watching the rest of the team head for the ground to glory in their first season win, stood and motioned for Harry to fly closer.  
  
"Where's Gilderoy?" Harry yelled over the noise of the fans, many of whom were watching the Irish seeker being treated on the field.  
  
Sirius pointed and called out, "He passed out, Harry!"  
  
The amount of concern and worry on Harry's face doubled as he brought his broom over the stands and made a tricky landing on the stairs. Dozens of people clapped him on the back and congratulated him as he struggled through them and around them toward Sirius and his lover.  
  
"What happened?" asked Harry breathlessly, kneeling between the seats and taking Gilderoy's head and shoulders into his arms. He felt the warm moisture of blood on his arm. "He's bleeding!" he exclaimed, pushing Gilderoy into a seated position with help from Sirius. He could see where the blood had begun to stain his lover's blond locks red.  
  
"That dive. It may have given me butterflies in my stomach for a moment, but, oh, no, not Gilderoy. He up and passes out! Oh, to hell with it! He fainted like a school girl." said Sirius, trying to mask his worry with bad-temper.  
  
"I should have known. He nearly fainted at the house match." said Harry, leaning Gilderoy back again and wrapping his arms around him.  
  
"Remus is getting someone to come and take a look at him. I sent him as soon as I knew he'd hit his head." Sirius assured him.  
  
Harry glanced toward the field and looked a little pale as he shook his head.  
  
"All the mediwitches and wizards will be attending to Irene Magilly. He shouldn't have bothered. We can manage this well enough on our own."  
  
Harry slapped Gilderoy very lightly to try and bring him around.  
  
"Harry ... I don't know about that. Remus will find someone to look after him for us. He's resourceful. And he knows a lot of people." Sirius reassured him.  
  
Gilderoy groaned, and for an instant Sirius thought that Harry looked a little smug before relief washed over his face.  
  
"Gilderoy? Are you all right?" he questioned.  
  
"What? What's going on?" he asked, opening his eyes slowly. They were badly focused and bleary.  
  
"Take it easy." Sirius cautioned. "You only fainted, but you've got a nasty cut on your head and maybe a concussion."  
  
Gilderoy looked up at Harry's face and jerked away from him.  
  
"You!" he spat, scuttling back against the seats and as far from Harry as possible. His face was full of anger and an almost murderous rage.  
  
Hurt, confusion, and anguish washed over Harry's pale, sweaty features.  
  
"Gilderoy? Love?" he questioned.  
  
"Harry? I don't know what just came over me." said Gilderoy, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"You hit your head, but you're going to be fine. Remus is getting help. You will be all right." Harry told him slowly, reaching for his hand.  
  
Gilderoy slapped Harry's hand away, but he could see surprised anguish in Gilderoy's eyes even as he did so. His stomach lurched. He didn't know what was happening.  
  
"Harry, love, I can't help it. I ... I don't know ... I don't understand. Love?" said Gilderoy suddenly beginning to sob. Then he stiffened and his face turned ugly. "Stay away!" he hissed, touching his injured head and looking at the blood on his fingertips. "Stay away from me!"  
  
The look on Harry's face was one of absolute and unmitigated torture. The Cruciatus curse would have hurt less than those words.  
  
"Harry? Please, he's been hurt. He doesn't know what he's saying." Sirius assured Harry, pulling his wand from his robes. "Let me put him down until we can get someone to look at him."  
  
"Sirius, you can't put a body bind on him. He would never recover from the shock. Not after the hospital, Sirius." said Harry frantically.  
  
"I'll just stun him. Don't worry."  
  
Gilderoy started to go for his wand, but Sirius was already prepared.  
  
"_Stupefy!_" Sirius said, pointing his wand at Gilderoy.  
  
Gilderoy sank back to the ground with a soft, sighing moan, almost as though he had merely fainted again. Harry reached toward him and softly stroked his hair, tears filling his eyes.  
  
"It was for the best. He might have tried to hurt one of us or inadvertently harmed himself. At least he's still and quiet now." Sirius assured Harry, squeezing his shoulder and putting his wand away.  
  
"I know." Harry whispered.  
  
  
The minutes seemed to drag as they awaited the return of Remus and some assistance. He returned with a familiar, although considerably paler than normal Madam Pomfrey, who was, of course, an ardent supporter of the national team, though her position caused her to miss many games each year.  
  
"That poor girl ..." she was saying to Remus as they approached.  
  
"Is she all right?" Sirius asked, moving out of her way. It was clear that Harry would not be budging.  
  
"It's too soon to say, I'm afraid. They should enchant the field or do something to stop these terrible things from happening. Driven into the ground like a nail. I have seen my share of Quidditch games, but I never saw anything quite like it. That poor girl ..." sighed Poppy. "I can understand why someone might faint at the sight." she said sympathetically.  
  
"He came to for a few minutes, but he was acting strangely and saying things that just didn't sound like him." said Sirius.  
  
"Oh, a head injury can do that." said Pomfrey as she began examining him.  
  
"I stunned him." Sirius admitted.  
  
"For the best. Couldn't have him thrashing about or cursing someone unintentionally. Very sensible, Mister Black." she commented.  
  
"Is he going to be all right?" asked Harry.  
  
"One moment, Mister Potter." she said, waving her wand over Gilderoy's head. "Quite a nasty knock, but, yes, he should be fine." she told him. "I can give him potion for the pain and other side effects, but that shouldn't be necessary. Just keep him still and quiet until he seems like himself again." Poppy advised.  
  
"That's it?" questioned Harry.  
  
"Unless you want to bring him to the castle."  
  
"No, but thank you." he said.  
  
"Chin up, Mister Potter. You've had worse than this yourself. And Gilderoy may not be made of so stern of stuff, but he is certainly strong enough to handle this." she said.  
  
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A/N: I feel an almost overwhelming urge to apologize, but I am ignoring it for the moment.   
  
  
Michelle: I have never seen a review quite that long. I feel rather honored. Sirius and Remus deserve some happiness. I only hope that they can get it. And, yes, Sirius can be very courageous. I don't know about getting Gilderoy on a broomstick. But I appreciate the suggestion just the same. Bell is being very sad right now, but maybe she will see her master again. I just don't know. I love the idea of them raising a kid (or even having one), but ... I can't say yea or nay to that one. I'm not sure if/when Harry's memoirs will be published. Regardless of how the fic goes from here, that would be telling. The paintings gave me the creeps too. The eyes! The eyes! Too weird. Gilderoy definitely shouldn't hit the bottle. I can totally see him having an addictive personality (though I have nothing with which to back that up). The book wasn't meant to be scary; it was just a point of fact. I used it in a heinous, short lived parody I wrote too. Weirdness comes in handy. I don't want to delve too deeply into Gilderoy's trauma, and I agree that he is very private. He once lived a life where he had a public persona that contradicted his private one a lot (hero vs coward, for example), and that is a true skill, in my opinion, and it possibly lingered with him in his personality somewhere. I totally understand about the schoolwork and so forth. I haven't spent as much time reading lately either, which is very sad for me since reading is my number one hobby (even before writing). The AlbusandMinerva pic is up, but it doesn't look very good. Fuzzy, you know? I need a better one! As for the Weasleys ... I don't want to spoil any of the plot. Sorry. I really enjoyed reading (and responding) to your review. Thank you very much!  
  
shadowycat: I cannot imagine what another memory charm would do to Gilderoy. *shudders* The permanent damage could be rather severe (hypothetically speaking). I usually feel bad for the house elves, but I think Harry has priorities, near the top of which is Gilderoy. Bell is an interesting person(?). She probably knows more about Gilderoy than he knows himself. She's so devoted too. But writing house elf speech patterns is so difficult! I never realized. And those paintings ... I nearly creeped myself out with that room. I am glad that you liked them. The proposal was quicker than Harry had intended. As for regret ... I can't comment. Sirius was the best father figure Harry ever had, even if he couldn't be around as much as either wanted. Of course Harry would miss having him around, though privacy thing would nice, I imagine. Now I have to admit why I chose Ireland ... I didn't have to make up players. The team was already mostly in place. I hope that doesn't sound lazy, but I didn't want to cram a lot of OC's into the story. I hope the match lives up to your expectations. Sports aren't my thing, so ... I might fail a bit there. Thank you very much for your reviews! I appreciate them.  
  
  



	25. The insanity of it all

Chapter Twenty-five  
  
The insanity of it all  
  
  
  
Harry and Sirius carried Gilderoy into the cottage and placed him gently upon the bed. Harry removed the wand from his robe pocket and set it on the night stand before signaling Sirius that it was okay to revive him.   
  
The drive had seemed longer than it should have been with Sirius at the wheel. Harry had pressed the keys into his hand with a pleading look as he climbed into the back seat with Gilderoy. He had not wished to leave him alone or in anyone else's care. Remus, in the passenger seat, joining the trio because he could not in good conscience leave them, had turned and given Harry an encouraging, although still very much worried, look as they drove away from the stadium.  
  
"Don't fret, Harry. He's going to be fine. You heard Poppy." Remus had assured him.  
  
The werewolf was lingering in the doorway, continuing to look more than a bit concerned, as Sirius raised his wand. He seemed to be bracing himself.  
  
"_Ennervate!_" said Sirius with a flick of his wand.  
  
Gilderoy moaned and reached for his head. His eyes were bleary, and he seemed confused. Harry held his breath as Gilderoy tried to sit up. Their eyes met.  
  
"Harry? What happened? How did I get here?" he asked.  
  
"You hit your head at the game." Harry explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed.  
  
"I thought you'd been ... I thought you were ... The sound ..." said Gilderoy, shivering. "I thought you'd been ploughed for sure." he said.  
  
"I'm all right. Unfortunately, the Irish seeker's probably not, but we won the game." Harry explained.  
  
Gilderoy smiled and some unfamiliar emotion flickered in his eyes before he said, "Wish I'd had the stomach to see it, Harry. I'm sorry about all this."  
  
"Don't worry, Gilderoy. There will be plenty of other games." said Harry, leaning over to kiss him.  
  
Gilderoy jerked away from him, but the expression on his face was one of confusion mixed with horror.  
  
"I don't know why I did that. For a second I felt ... I felt strange." said Gilderoy, looking at the hurt in Harry's eyes.  
  
"It's all right." Harry assured him, trying to smile.  
  
"Can you tell us how you felt?" questioned Sirius.  
  
Gilderoy thought for a moment and frowned, "I don't know why, but I think I felt, just for a moment, jealous or something."  
  
"Jealous?" questioned Harry.  
  
"Or resentful. I can't honestly say which or why, Harry."  
  
"He just needs to rest." said Remus.  
  
"I'm not tired." Gilderoy protested.  
  
Harry reached toward him, and he moved away again.  
  
"Don't!" he hissed. Gilderoy looked immediately ashamed and shook his head. "Perhaps I should lie down. Perhaps it would be for the best." he admitted. "Just not here. Might I use the spare room?" he questioned.  
  
"Of course." said Harry, trying to hide the sadness and confusion that he felt. But the emotions were all too apparent in his green eyes.  
  
"I'll make up the bed for him. Come help me, Padfoot." said Remus, intending to give them a few moments alone.  
  
"Right." Sirius agreed, following him out.  
  
"I don't know what's the matter, Harry. I swear I don't." said Gilderoy, hiding his face in his hands. "I feel two different ways. Angry and sad. Contemptuous and so very afraid. Envious, of what I don't know, and confused, terribly confused." he confessed.  
  
"Everything will sort itself out in time. Just try to relax." Harry told him, resisting the impulse to touch his shoulder or his hair.  
  
"I hope it will, Harry, or I shall probably go mad."  
  
"Not while I'm around. I won't let you."  
  
"Maybe you ought to give me a sleeping draught, Harry. Maybe I can just sleep this off." he suggested.  
  
"I will later if you aren't feeling any better." Harry agreed.  
  
"Thank you, Harry. Now I should go lie down for a while."  
  
  
Remus closed the guest room door to give all them more privacy. Gilderoy was lying down with a look of confusion in his eyes. Sirius was pouring them all a good stiff drink, of which they were all in need, especially Harry, who was sitting on the couch with his head in his heads. This was the last thing any of them had expected.  
  
"What if he _is_ going mad?" Harry asked quietly as Sirius and Remus sat down next to him. Sirius pressed a glass into his hands.  
  
"Drink." he ordered. "For you nerves."  
  
"Have you talked to anyone about his situation, anyone at all, these past few months?" asked Remus.  
  
"Hermione was looking into cures for memory charms. She was doing a lot of research for me on memory loss in both the wizarding and muggle world." answered Harry.  
  
He had only exchanged a few letters, short notes really, since the attack at the Ministry ball. Ron had his hands full at work, and they had taken care of Percy for nearly a month before he was well enough to return home and to work. The attack had turned their lives upside-down. Hermione was working very hard at a charm research center, where she was on her way to becoming recognized as a leader in the Department of Charm Improvement.  
  
"Wait," said Harry, frowning, "you think his behavior this afternoon is related to his memory somehow?"  
  
Remus shrugged and said, "I don't know, but it seems a likely place to start."  
  
"Should I try to get in touch with her then?" Harry questioned.  
  
"It couldn't hurt." said Sirius, gesturing toward the fireplace.  
  
  
Hermione looked rather tired when her head appeared in the hearth, but she smiled fondly when she saw Remus, Sirius, and Harry gathered around the fire.  
  
"This must be important." she observed.  
  
"Have you done any more research on memory loss and amnesia?" asked Harry.  
  
"A bit. Did you have a question?" she asked.  
  
"Gilderoy hit his head today, pretty hard, in fact, and now he's acting very strangely." explained Harry.  
  
"Oh, well, describe his symptoms for me."  
  
"He's says things without meaning to and doesn't know why. He says that he feels two different things at once. And he's worried about going mad."  
  
"Has his memory begun to return?"  
  
"Yes, but that started right after the ball. I thought I had mentioned ..."  
  
"You had. I'm sorry. How is his memory then?" she asked, shaking her head.  
  
"He doesn't like to talk about it much, but he remembers flashes of things. I know he remembers putting memory charms on people, but what else I can't say." Harry explained.  
  
"I see ..." said Hermione, looking very thoughtful.  
  
"Hermione."  
  
"Could it be that he has regained more memories? Perhaps all of them? And is having a difficult time coping, Harry? I mean, think about it. He lived one life where for all we know he was a complete, irredeemable bastard. Now he has this life where he's the devoted lover of a handsome and compassionate young man. Can you see where some conflict and inner turmoil might arise?" asked Hermione.  
  
Harry nodded thoughtfully and said, "When you put it that way, Hermione, I can see who that might be problematic. But can I fix it?"  
  
"Harry! For heaven's sake! He's not a broom that drifts to the right! You can't just pull out a service kit for him." she admonished.  
  
Sirius snorted and said, "He knows that, Hermione, so answer his question."  
  
"Harry, I'm no expert in matters like these. Give him time. And make sure he knows how you feel. Other than that, I can't tell you anything. From what I know about the two of you," she said, glancing meaningfully at the band on Harry's finger, the twin of the one resting upon Gilderoy's, "I can say that you will probably weather this and come out of it better off than before."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione. I can only hope that you're right." said Harry, looking at the floor and shaking his head.  
  
Sirius and Remus could see it in her eyes. Hermione desperately wished the same thing for her friend.  
  
  
Harry looked in on Gilderoy several times that evening and brought his dinner into the guest room, but Gilderoy wouldn't eat and appeared to have spent those hours alternating between tears and staring at the ceiling. Worry was etched upon Harry's face, and it was very clear that he felt helpless.  
  
"Why not take him to St. Mungo's tomorrow and have them examine him?" questioned Remus as they washed the dishes together.   
  
Sirius had left the cottage in his Animagus form to go for an invigorating run, leaving professor and former student to talk. For Sirius, it was something to ease his mind.  
  
"I'm afraid that they will want to keep him, and I will never see him or hold him again." said Harry.  
  
"Do you want Poppy to take another look at him? I'm sure she would."  
  
"I don't know what I want, Remus. What if she says that nothing's wrong with him? What will I do then?"  
  
"I know. Do you want us to stay here tonight? I could crash on the couch, and Sirius could curl up on the rug by the fire." said Remus with a small smile, nudging Harry and trying to cheer him up.  
  
"No thanks. It's not that I don't want the company, but I think I had better ..."  
  
"Handle things yourself? James said that from time to time too." chuckled Remus. "I can respect that, but do not hesitate, Harry, to call us. We like to think of ourselves as your family. Remember that, all right?" he asked, drying his hands.  
  
"Of course." agreed Harry.  
  
"Now the question is, do you want to give Gilderoy his potion before we leave?" asked Remus.  
  
"I suppose I'd better."  
  
  
Gilderoy wanted to shower to get the blood out of his hair before going to bed. Harry consented to that and sat in the parlor with Remus and Sirius as he did so. Sirius tried to feign exhaustion in order to get Harry to let them stay, but Remus gave him a glare and Sirius stopped.  
  
"He might be fine in the morning." Harry told them though his voice sounded hollow.  
  
"There is an excellent chance of that, I'm sure." agreed Remus.  
  
"You two should go. You've got papers to mark. I know you have, Remus, and, Sirius, your place is with him."  
  
"Our place is with our family, Harry." said Sirius, almost echoing his lover's words. "But I can see that you're tired too. Call us ..."  
  
"I will. I promise."  
  
"And we will both see you on the day after tomorrow in France as it is nearly the end of term and Remus doesn't have any examinations that day." Sirius told him.  
  
"Of course." Harry agreed.  
  
  
They had soon left, appartated to a point just outside the Hogwarts' grounds, leaving Harry will a small bottle of sleeping draught to give Gilderoy in the faint hope of putting him right again. He sat on the couch staring at the bottle for a long time after he heard the water stop in the guest bathroom. What would happen if Gilderoy continued having these fits of anger and inexplicable emotions? Harry knew that he would try his best to love and take care of him, no matter what. His heart ached, but his own devotion did not falter.  
  
"Harry?" a timid voice called from the other room. "Can I have the draught now?"  
  
"Coming, love." he yelled in return, leaving the couch.  
  
Gilderoy was already in bed. He smiled when he saw Harry, but then his face gave a grimacing twitch. There were shadows under his eyes.  
  
"Sorry." he murmured as Harry filled a small glass for him.  
  
"Don't worry. I'm not that easily offended." Harry joked, handing him the draught he had poured.  
  
Gilderoy drained the contents and then stared numbly at the glass in his hands. An instant later Harry might have been sorry if not for his superb Quidditch reflexes. He ducked as the glass came flying toward his head, hitting the wall behind him with a crash. Harry gasped as he glanced over his shoulder.  
  
"I ... I don't know what came over me!" said Gilderoy. He was suddenly pale, and his lower lip was quivering.  
  
"I'm fine. Nice arm." commented Harry, choking back tears of his own.  
  
"I didn't mean ..."  
  
"Of course you didn't. Your rather liked that glass, didn't you?"  
  
"And you ... I lov... I lov... Oh, Harry, I can't even say it." said Gilderoy tearfully.  
  
"I know. And I love you. Get some rest now, all right?"  
  
"Yes." Gilderoy nodded.  
  
  
Harry closed the door behind himself and ran his hands through his hair. His heart was pounding. Gilderoy had tried to hurt him. Why? There had to be a reason. Or maybe this was madness. His blood ran cold with dread. The memory charm had been very powerful and intact for a long time. What if the result of it losing its hold on Gilderoy was insanity? Hermione could be wrong. Perhaps he had lost his grip on reality, on his emotions. Harry shook his head.  
  
"Whatever has happened, he is still the man I asked to marry me and I intend to stand by him no matter what he throws at me." Harry vowed silently.  
  
He rubbed his eyes and felt suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day. First there was the Quidditch game, which ended in the least desirable kind of win possible: a win where someone on the opposing team was horribly injured. Then this. It had taken all of his strength.  
  
Harry went miserably to bed, hoping that he could find sleep and peace there, though he doubted the later. His bed would be empty, strangely empty.  
  
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A/N: I may have waited too long to get back to Hermione.   
  
  
Michelle: I can't say if Gilderoy will get over what has happened or how soon. I read somewhere in one of the books that all wizards and witches enjoy Quidditch. I can't see Madam Pomfrey being an exception. Gilderoy would probably enjoy the game more if he wasn't watching Harry risk his neck. That probably scares him deeply. I didn't know if there would be a mascot show for a regular game as opposed to at the Cup. I don't know what the English mascot would be. Unicorns maybe? Good question. Why didn't the gusty weather cushion Magilly's fall? She didn't just fall. She failed to pull up fast enough in a dive. She wasn't just dealing with acceleration due to gravity. This would have been more like a plane crash. And I don't think your questions were crabby at all. I try to avoid gender bias whenever possible, but it gets tiresome to say mediwitch or wizard every time, not to mention that when people are under stress or maybe a bit panicked they often forget to be politically correct. So I guess that would be an oversight on my part. I can't discuss Gilderoy's 'moody swings'. Gives away too much. I don't think there will be a sequel to this. It is the longest single story that I have ever written (I'm a short story writer by nature). I don't know if Armenia would have a team in the books, but I liked the idea of a smaller country having one. I am often afraid of foreshadowing. I feel like I lay it on too thick sometimes. I don't think I will be developing the Quidditch players. Sorry if Arnie is kind of boring. I'm not big on OC's anyhow. I am not a house elf expert, but I imagine that when Gilderoy left for Hogwarts he told Bell to mind the house or something, so she was possibly in some way obligated to stay. It's nice to be appreciated! Thank you very much for the review!  
  
shadowycat: I think my two Quidditch games were too much alike. But then, in some ways, so were the ones in the books (except the one with dementors). I think disturbing sums up the incident nicely. I don't want to give anything away, so maybe it would be best to put off any comments on the memory situation. As for the wedding, I don't think Harry would be thinking of going through with the ceremony soon, but he is trying to tell himself not to allow his feelings to change because of the tragic accident. As for the painfulness of this episode ... I am almost afraid to comment. Thank you for reviewing!   
  
  



	26. Rhymes with deceive

Chapter Twenty-six  
  
Rhymes with deceive  
  
  
  
Something was touching him, Harry realized, as he opened his eyes the next morning. It was early, and the gray light of morning lit his bedroom. And something pointed was touching his back. He started to move, but a hand pushed him down.  
  
"_Petrificus Totalus!_" he heard a voice cast.   
  
The voice was familiar and yet unfamiliar. It required a moment for Harry to realize that it was Gilderoy who had just put a full body bind on him. The point touching his back was that of a wand. If he could have, he would have shivered.  
  
Gilderoy stepped into his range of vision and hunched down to look at him with a smug and satisfied smile on his face. His eyes were chillingly bereft of expression or emotion. They were cold and pitilessly hard.  
  
Harry couldn't understand what was going on.  
  
"It seems that all I really needed to was a good, clean conk on the head, Harry, to become my stunning self again. And I am myself again. I wish I could say that I appreciated these last few months," he said, his facing twitching slightly, "but one can hardly call living like this enjoyable. Or at least I can't."  
  
Gilderoy rocked on his heels and practically beamed, though his smile was sinister, unwholesome, almost malevolent.  
  
"I must admit that I consider myself very fortunate to have lived with an aspiring young writer. Your memoirs are just what I need to get my career going again. I can be a celebrity again and maybe finally have everything I deserve. Or, rather, everything that I want: fame and fortune. I can have it all again!" said Gilderoy with a deep breath and a sigh.  
  
Gilderoy leveled his wand, but seemed to think better of it.  
  
"Memory charms are such unreliable things! Breakable, you know? I know what would be much better. I can see the headlines: _Harry Potter found dead, lover publishes beautifully written co-authored autobiography_. I need credibility. That would be very credible. And your name would live on with mine. Of course, what do _you_ need with more fame?" he asked, his tone turning nasty.  
  
"Nevertheless." he sniffed, tucking his wand away.   
  
"Now, how to make this look like death by natural causes? We must make it look as though poor, young Harry Potter died in his sleep after winning his first professional Quidditch game. And, unfortunately, his lover was sleeping in the other room and could not save him. Ugh! The thought of you, dark hared and hopelessly skinny, dying in bed with unsurpassingly beautiful me! Well, convenient that I wasn't in here." he said contemptuously.  
  
Harry could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. Paralyzed he might be, but he was well aware of everything that Gilderoy was saying. It terrified him more deeply than Voldemort ever had. Even during his duel with the Dark Lord he had not felt so afraid, and certainly not so powerless or so helpless. He could not even plead with Gilderoy. He could not even cast a spell.  
  
"Here we go!" said Gilderoy, chuckling darkly as he lifted the extra pillow from the bed. "This should do the trick."  
  
Before Harry had even realized what he meant, darkness closed in around him. Gilderoy pressed the pillow over his face, smothering him. He could not breathe! He could not even struggle for breath! There was only the darkness and helpless terror.  
  
"No! No! He loved you! That boy loved with the fullest measure of devotion!" he heard Gilderoy wailing. "You can't do it! You can't!" he sobbed.  
  
The pillow was jerked away just as Harry's consciousness began to flutter away. Gilderoy was still standing over him, gasping as though he too had nearly been smothered. For a brief instant Gilderoy reached down and touched his cheek. Their eyes met. And then Gilderoy Lockhart tossed the pillow away and fled.  
  
Harry could see spots before his eyes as Gilderoy's heavy tread retreated into the parlor. His sobs were loud and uncontrolled. There were other sounds too, but he didn't know them. He didn't care. Foremost in Harry's mind were two facts. He could breathe again, and he was still in a full body bind.  
  
"_Apparate!_" he heard Gilderoy scream. There was a loud popping sound and no more. Only silence.  
  
  
Harry could only lay there and replay the event in his mind over and over again, hearing Gilderoy's uncharacteristically harsh and malicious words in an endless loop of despair.  
  
"I wish I could say that I appreciated these last few months ..." as though their good times, their nights together, their love had meant nothing. A cheap gift tossed aside soon after the holidays had ended.  
  
"I can have it all again!" as though this had been nothing, or worse than nothing, unsatisfactory and ordinary. Harry had believed what the two of them had was all that anyone could ever need. Love. Intimacy. A companion for the long road.  
  
"What do _you_ need with more fame?" he had asked as though fame were a thing that Harry collected and that he, that Gilderoy, treasured, but was not allowed to have enough of. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps Gilderoy had needed more recognition, more time in the sun, but Harry would never have denied him that.  
  
"Ugh! The thought of you," might have been the worst of it. Emotional connections are difficult to judge, but the physical connection they had had seemed so right, so natural, so perfect. And he could discard it like that? Harry would have wept if only it were possible.  
  
"You can't do it! You can't!" he had screamed in a voice that sounded more like the one he woke up to in the morning. The kindly, gentle-hearted man that he had fell in love with so quickly, so easily.  
  
He had spared him. The part of Gilderoy that he had loved and loved him in return had saved him. And perhaps that part would return to release him from the body bind. Harry watched the room brighten with sunlight as he waited.  
  
Then the shadows of afternoon came and the sky darkened.  
  
He was still completely immobile and utterly wretched.  
  
"Why didn't he just kill me?" he thought. "Because he loved you. Because that was real." he answered himself.  
  
  
Voices. His mind was dimly aware of voices. Familiar, soothing voices somewhere far off in the distance. Or were they close? Harry could not say for certain. The world was blurry, confusing, and only just beginning to grow light again. Wasn't darkness permanent? Wasn't it forever? Something was forever. He thought it was the darkness that had surrounded him, but it was fading.  
  
"I'm telling you, Moony. Harry would not miss a Quidditch match unless the situation were extremely dire." an anxious voice pressed. He knew that voice.  
  
"Would he have left a note?" asked another voice, less anxious, but more tired.  
  
"Bother a note! Where are they?" asked the first voice.  
  
"Sirius." Harry thought, identifying the speaker by name. "Godfather?" his confused mind asked. Recognition was slow to him come to him.  
  
"Check in there." said the other voice.  
  
"Professor Lupin." No, that was an old name. He had another. "Remus."  
  
He heard the loud sound of footfalls. Everything was becoming louder, clearer, but no less confusing. He only wanted to retreat back into darkness.  
  
"Harry?" questioned Sirius.  
  
"What?" called Remus from a great distance.  
  
  
Sirius and Remus had apparated in from the rainy Quidditch pitch in France as soon as they realized that Harry and Gilderoy weren't there. The absence of the latter was easily explained by his injury, but they knew that Harry would not let his teammates down unless it was a matter of life or death. Remus had gone to check the guest room while Sirius had walked into the master bedroom.  
  
"Harry?" he had called, spotting the slender form of his godson sprawled on the bed, unmoving. He had grabbed the door frame for an instant. His head was swimming as the thought occurred to him, "My God! He's not moving! Is he breathing? He looks dead."  
  
Then he leapt toward the bed, scrabbling frantically to Harry's side. A strangled sobbing sound escaping from his throat. He caressed Harry's bare back and felt his neck desperately for a pulse, for any sign of life. Anything to tell him that the boy still lived.  
  
"Padfoot! Tell me he's not!" said Remus in a frightened voice as he watched Sirius touching Harry's throat.  
  
"He's been paralyzed. A body bind." said Sirius after a few panicked moments. It was not a difficult conclusion to make. He had seen it often enough, though it was certainly unexpected.  
  
"I'll get it off." said Remus, pulling out his wand.   
  
He removed the spell with a word, and Harry fell limp in his godfather's arms.  
  
"Speak to me, Harry. Tell me what happened." said Sirius, rubbing Harry's arms to try to bring him around. He seemed only semi-conscious.  
  
  
As Harry lay in Sirius's arms, he was physically comfortable for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. Even Sirius's gentle chafing, which was joined by Remus patting his face and calling his name, was welcomed. But he could not immediately speak. He could not begin to fathom what to say to them as they tearfully sat there with him. His own eyes felt far too dry for tears, but he would have gladly wept. Someone was missing. Someone whom he loved had abandoned him. And he could not find the words to fit the deed.  
  
What had happened was painfully clear. Image by image, he could see it all again in the blink of a eye. The worst of it was that he had been waiting all those long hours for Gilderoy to return for him. After all the harsh words, so uncharacteristic of the man he had come to know and love, or thought that he had known, Harry had still hoped that Gilderoy was going to come back, remove the spell, and ask for forgiveness, which Harry was very willing to give. If only he had returned ...  
  
Harry moved his lips, but no sound emerged.  
  
"Louder, Harry." said Sirius, leaning closer to hear him.  
  
"Gilderoy ... gone." Harry managed after a few long moments. "Never coming back."  
  
Then he closed his eyes and felt the tide of darkness sweep him away.  
  
  
Sirius's eyes drifted from his godson to the night stand by the bed. Harry's wand was there, but Gilderoy's was absent. At first he couldn't believe it. Then he felt his blood suddenly boil with rage. Gilderoy had surely done this! Sirius clutched Harry close.  
  
"I'll kill him." Sirius swore. "I will kill that worthless, faithless son of a ..."  
  
"Sirius! You can't jump to conclusions, not now, not when Harry needs us." said Remus, gripping his shoulders.  
  
"We should have ... I should have been here when this happened, when Harry really needed me. We have to contact someone. Harry needs help."  
  
"Dumbledore? Poppy?" suggested Remus, leaving the bed.  
  
"He isn't their responsibility anymore. We can't just ask them to come here. Do you know a good mediwitch or wizard?" asked Sirius, shaking his head.  
  
"A few at St. Mungo's." Remus nodded, dashing into the setting room to use the fireplace.  
  
Sirius lifted Harry into his arms and carried him from the bedroom. He was unconscious. Sirius cursed his misfortune. If Harry could only tell him where that bastard had got off to, he would go after him seeking vengeance.   
  
Remus was already talking to a head in the fireplace when Sirius sat down on the couch with his charge.  
  
"A body bind, you say? There shouldn't be any lingering after effects. Unless, of course, it was used for an extended period of time. Twenty-four hours or more perhaps." said the bearded head in the hearth, a mediwizard from St. Mungo's Hospital.  
  
Sirius gasped at what the mediwizard told them. Harry had been left under the influence of a magical binding spell for as long as a day? It was unconscionable! It was unthinkable! It was torture!  
  
"We don't know how long ..." Remus told him.  
  
"Let me grab my things, and I'll be right over." said the mediwizard.  
  
"Thank you, Darien." nodded Remus, stepping away from the fireplace and joining Sirius on the couch. "Padfoot? How is he?" he questioned.  
  
"I don't know how he is." Sirius snapped. "Sorry." he muttered, shaking his head.  
  
"Sirius?" questioned Harry feebly, returning to the waking world again.  
  
"Yes, Harry? I'm here." said Sirius. "And so is Remus. Don't worry. We're going to take care of you."  
  
"Gilderoy ..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Did he come back for me?"  
  
"He isn't here. Tell me, Harry, did he put that spell on you?" asked Sirius, brushing Harry's dark hair from his forehead.  
  
"Yes." said Harry softly.  
  
"But why?" asked Remus, leaning closer to hear him.  
  
"The memoirs ... fame ... celebrity."  
  
Remus looked at the untouched pile of papers next to the typewriter on the coffee table and frowned, "But they're still here, Harry. He didn't take them."  
  
"For a while he was scheming Professor Lockhart again, but then he ... remembered our love ... at the last second. And then he ran away. I was certain that he had still taken them, especially since he hasn't come back for me." said Harry, turning his head to look at the neatly typed sheets of paper.  
  
His eyes drifted to the mantel. Harry squinted and saw that the box with the Ministry seal, the box containing the keys to Gilderoy's vault and childhood home, was gone. Gilderoy had taken it when he left.  
  
"Harry?" questioned Sirius.  
  
"He won't be coming back."  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry. I wish that ..." Remus began to say, squeezing Harry's shoulder.  
  
A roar from the fireplace, signaling the arrival of someone by floo, interrupted whatever he might have said. It was the mediwizard from St. Mungo's.  
  
  
Darien, who had been a schoolmate of Remus and Sirius, examined Harry, who seemed to be recovering quickly, at least physically. His friends could see the despair and pain that lingered in his eyes as he reclined on the couch, covered with a warm blanket. Remus made cocoa while Sirius and Darien talked quietly outside and out of earshot, so as not to worry or bother Harry.  
  
Remus tried to smile as he brought a mug of hot chocolate to Harry, sitting down next to him on the couch.  
  
"Drink up. It's nice and hot, Harry." Remus instructed.  
  
"I don't want anything."  
  
"Just give it a taste. It will warm you up."  
  
"You don't have to mother me, Remus."  
  
"I know that, but who else do I have to mother?" he chuckled.  
  
"You have Sirius."  
  
"Well, that's a matter of opinion. I always look at it as Sirius has me."  
  
"You have each other. I thought I had ..."  
  
"None of that!" said Remus gently, but firmly. "We will get you sorted out first, and then we will handle Lockhart."  
  
"Unnecessary. He has returned to his manor and his old life. You should just let him stay there."  
  
"You know where he's gone?"  
  
"He took the keys. And where else does he have to go in all the world, Remus?"  
  
"I wouldn't know."  
  
"It doesn't matter. I will owl him, I think, when I feel better."  
  
"Really? What for?"  
  
"It hurts, what he's done, but I know that the man I fell in love with is still alive in him, even if he is the fraud and the selfish schemer too. I want him to know that I'm not angry with _him_."  
  
"Harry ..."  
  
"Would you expect any less of me?"  
  
"And would you take him back?"  
  
"If he returned to me ... I believe that I would."  
  
  
The mediwizard gave Harry a sleeping draught before he left. He remained on the couch as he waited for it to take effect. Sirius had decided to sleep in a chair by the fire, but Remus was duty-bound to return to Hogwarts before morning. There would be exams the next day. Sirius had yet to take on the mantel of such responsibility and would remain with Harry for as long as he deemed necessary.  
  
"You could stay with us over the holidays, Harry. Remus and I would love to have you." offered Sirius.  
  
"Or we could stay here with you for a while." said Remus.  
  
"I'll be all right in a day or so." said Harry, yawning.  
  
"Of course, but we don't want you to be alone ..."  
  
"I was quite accustomed to being alone. I can get used to it again. Don't worry yourselves about me."  
  
"The more often you say that, the less true it turns out to be. How about if I stay here until you feel better?" questioned Sirius.  
  
"Suit yourself then." said Harry, his eyes closing on their own accord.  
  
It was quiet for a few minutes, but Harry wasn't asleep yet.  
  
"What did Darien say?" questioned Remus in hushed tones.  
  
"It took a lot out of him. He was already weakened. He never quite recovered from the duel ..."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I think his dreams of being a Quidditch star ended yesterday."  
  
"That was never Harry's dream. James's, yes, but not Harry. It just gives him something to do, you know."  
  
"Perhaps." Sirius acquiesced.  
  
"What else did he tell you?"  
  
"We will both probably outlive our young friend."  
  
The silence between them was very heavy, palpable. It was difficult to imagine that Harry would not even have the life span of a muggle, much less that of a true wizard. Harry had known this for sometime, and it had been his secret, his deepest and darkest.   
  
They were right about Quidditch too. He loved the game, but with less than all of his heart. When he got on the national team, he had planned to play for three years and no longer, long enough to get some enjoyment out of it and sort himself out. Long enough to decide how he wanted to use the time he had been left with after serving his life's true purpose, which had always been to defeat Lord Voldemort.  
  
"I can still finish out the season if I'm not tossed off the team for missing a pivotal game. Well, not exactly pivotal. It was only France. They haven't won the Cup in years." he thought sleepily.  
  
"So ..." said Remus casually, though the word seemed to stick in his throat.  
  
"Should I go after Gilderoy? Should I make him pay the price for this?" asked Sirius.  
  
"You would, I think, be within your rights, though the Ministry might not see it that way, but Harry would never forgive you if you killed him."  
  
"The boy has a heart of gold ..."  
  
"The man, Padfoot. Harry isn't a child any longer."  
  
"When he's asleep ..." said Sirius, his voice trembling. "He looks just like James did when we were in school. Only more careworn perhaps. Sadder somehow."  
  
"I was sad when I _thought_ you betrayed me."  
  
"Point taken."  
  
"Both times."  
  
"I only betrayed you once ... when I told Snape ..."  
  
"Yes, Padfoot, and I forgave you after a time."  
  
"You never truly trusted me again though."  
  
"I trust you now."  
  
"Time. There's an old saying ..."  
  
"Time heals all wounds? Yes, one of my favorites." chuckled Remus.  
  
"Mine too."  
  
"Will it work for them?"  
  
"If Harry has enough of it, perhaps. And if Gilderoy isn't too much of a fool."  
  
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A/N: Long chapter. Short notes. Not sure what be appropriate to say after that.  
  
  
shadowycat: Your observations about Gilderoy and the situation were really interesting.   
  
Michelle: Oh, yes, lots of conflict. And you are indeed The Asker of Impossible Questions. I'm glad you're cool with that. The alcohol thing ... cultural I guess (from my end). And I am almost positive that there are statements in the books attesting to the almost universal popularity of Quidditch among the wizarding population.   
  
  



	27. Epilogue

Chapter Twenty-seven  
  
Epilogue  
  
  
  
Three weeks later Harry found himself lying on the couch and watching Remus prepare an omelet and Sirius setting the table for breakfast. They had spent most of the Christmas holidays with him, nursing him back to health and generally mothering him, and at his insistence would be returning to Hogwarts the next day when classes resumed.   
  
Harry had sent that letter to Gilderoy three days earlier. Hedwig had returned just the night before, but without so much as a note from the man he loved and who had betrayed him. But whom Harry was also all too willing to forgive. What had the letter said? It had been penned very quickly, before Remus could urge him to give it some more time and more thought.  
  
"_Dear Gilderoy, I wanted to write to you and tell you that I'm all right. You didn't hurt me. And I still love you. And I miss you. I miss you more than anything. Can we make amends? Yours, Harry._"  
  
Harry did not beg or plead with him to return. Gilderoy would come back or stay away of his own accord. He simply wanted him to know that there was no anger, no hard feelings, and nothing standing between them that was insurmountable. And he had half hoped that it would be enough.  
  
He chuckled sadly and flipped through a few loose pages of his memoirs. Remus had read them, corrected a few things here and there, and challenged some of Harry's reasoning concerning the motives of others before telling him that he thought they were amazing and insightful for the most part. He had told Harry that students would be reading his book in school before too many years passed. And Remus silently hoped that Harry would live to see the day when that happened.  
  
Harry had taken a short sabbatical from Quidditch, which meant that he would miss the team's games versus Armenia, Egypt, and Sweden, but they would welcome him back as soon as he was able to play again. And Harry fully intended to finish out his season with the national team. Nothing short of death and dismemberment would stop him, although he could see quite clearly that it worried Remus and his godfather that he was willing to take such risks with his health.  
  
"It's my life, and I want to live it while I still can." Harry had explained that to them in far gentler terms, but they could both understand the sentiment.  
  
  
Harry grew restless the next day after his guests, his family, had left to return to their lives. He admitted that the company had been nice. Losing Gilderoy would have been unbearable otherwise. Harry felt a painful twinge of loss whenever he thought of his blond lover. Former lover, he amended mentally. It was funny. When he had broken up with boys in school, it had never hurt half so much. Perhaps because the partings had been considerably more amiable. This was something entirely different.  
  
He would be going to Luxembourg for a big Quidditch match in three days and wasn't certain how to spend the time in between. He had logged in some time on the broom with Remus the week before. He wouldn't be rusty when the time came. Harry chuckled as he remembered what he had overheard Remus say about his Quidditch ambitions. He didn't want to play forever, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to play with the national team, especially since they still had a chance in the World Cup.  
  
A drive, he finally decided, was what he needed. It had been some time since he had taken the car out. Sirius, becoming almost as overprotective as Remus, had elected to fetch the groceries over the previous three weeks.   
  
But when Harry climbed into the car, keeping the top up against the extreme cold and the threat of midday snow flurries, he sighed aloud.  
  
"I want to see him. I want to know for sure that he's okay and that nothing has happened to him. It's no use. Even after everything he said and tried to do, not knowing what happened when he left will drive me mad." he thought to himself before taking off down the drive. His destination? Lockhart Manor.  
  
  
Harry slowed to a stop when he reached the private driveway to the manor. His thoughts had become a jumble as he drove. What if Gilderoy truly never wanted to see him again? What if he had meant some of the terrible things he had said? Or all of them? Perhaps Gilderoy had returned to his old life without even looking back. Or were the final words, the ones about love and devotion, were those real and everything else a mistake, an irrational outburst and nothing more? Harry longed to know what was real, even more than he longed for the companionship he missed.  
  
He drove up the grassy lane to the gray house where Gilderoy had lived many years of his troubled life. He parked and left the car, pulling his cloak close against the cold. The manor gate was open. Harry walked toward the expansive house and glanced at the dark windows. It still seemed deserted. For a moment Harry felt a hot rush of panic. What if Gilderoy had never come here? Was it possible the he was lost somewhere in the wide world? Lost and homeless ... What ever would become of him?  
  
Harry inhaled slowly, trying to fight the sudden fear, as his feet carried him to the doors of the manor. He could only knock and wait for an answer.  
  
The door creaked open to reveal a miserable little figure dressed in a red tablecloth. She looked up at Harry with her huge eyes and blinked. It had been years since Harry had seen such an unhappy house elf.  
  
"Hello, Bell." said Harry tentatively.  
  
"You is being master's gentleman friend, yes?" she questioned.  
  
" I was ... That's right. Is Gilderoy here?" Harry asked, leaning down to be closer to her height.  
  
"Yes, handsome" and here she squeaked softly and wiped her eyes on her dress, "master, is here."  
  
"May I see him?"  
  
She opened the door wider and allowed him into the house. It was very dimly lit inside, shadowy and somewhat cold. The manor seemed even more devoid of life than when Gilderoy and he had first stepped inside just weeks earlier.  
  
"Where is he?" Harry questioned.  
  
"Master is where he always is. Hardly moves. Poor master sits in the parlor in front of the fire." she sniffled. "He weeps. He drinks. He looks at the garden. He weeps more. Bell is thinking that master is very ill or very sad. Master does not say which."  
  
There was a lump in Harry's throat as he looked toward the closed door of the parlor. He looked down at Bell.  
  
"I'm sorry." he said simply.  
  
"You is come here to see my master? Is you going to help him?" Bell questioned.  
  
"I ... don't know. I want to see him ..."  
  
"Then, go. Maybe you is curing him." she said, curtsying and gesturing toward the door.  
  
  
Harry felt a slight chill as he slowly opened the door to the parlor, but then he felt the soft warmth of a fire in the hearth that helped abate the coldness. The room had changed somewhat. All of the paintings, portraits of Gilderoy during the height of his popularity, were covered with shrouds. The eyes, Harry recalled, had frightened Gilderoy. He stood there for a moment, looking at the back of the chair by the hearth. Then he heard the sound of quiet sobbing, and he knew that sound well. It could be no one but Gilderoy. Harry stepped around the chair quietly and gasped softly at the sight that awaited him.  
  
Gilderoy was holding a half empty glass of amber liquid, whiskey or perhaps fire whiskey, Harry presumed. There was an empty bottled by the chair. Gilderoy looked to be a mess.   
  
He was still dressed in the same robes that he had been wearing when he left the Little Burrow, though they no longer looked so fine or elegant as his clothes were spotted with stains from what Harry presumed to be the alcohol and possibly his tears. Gilderoy had, of course, taken none of his things with him, just his wand, his keys, and the clothes on his back.   
  
Harry could see just what had become of the wand. It lay snapped in twain in the fireplace, but its hard opal core refused to burn. Sirius had told Harry some days earlier that the opal was the symbol of bad luck and duplicity. Now it was somewhat charred and useless. It was destroyed for whatever that was worth.  
  
The clothes and the muted sobs he knew, but it was the face that Harry hardly recognized. Long had been the hours of his weeping. His eyes seemed almost to bleed so severe was their redness. And his hair was both knotted and tangled as it hung about his face. Great hanks of it were missing because he had torn it out in his grief and anguish. His blotched face was a terrible sight too, but the emptiness and hopelessness in his eyes were far more horrible to look upon. Harry had never seen him like that, not in all the months he had known Gilderoy.  
  
"Love?" Harry breathed, forgetting their quarrel, forgetting everything as he stepped close enough to lay a hand upon his arm.  
  
Gilderoy was shaking as he looked up at Harry with those vacant, cloudy eyes. His lips moved, but no sound emerged from them. Harry brushed Gilderoy's hair away from his face.  
  
"Love? What has become of you?" Harry whispered as tears came to his eyes.  
  
"Harry, you shouldn't be here. I'm not safe. I might try to ... I might try to murder you again." said Gilderoy, spilling his drink upon his lap as he edged away from Harry. The glass rolled to the floor and shattered quietly.  
  
"Gilderoy, you were a lot of things, some good and some bad, but you were never a murderer." Harry told him.  
  
"But I ..."  
  
"Hush. You don't have to say anything to me about that. I can look at you and see that you didn't mean to do it, any of it."  
  
"You shouldn't forgive me, Harry. You really shouldn't."  
  
"But I do."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because ... I loved you. I still love you. And because I can."  
  
Gilderoy covered his face with his hands, collapsing into helpless tears. Harry smoothed his matted blond locks and shushed him quietly. He could feel the sobbing slowly lessening and leaned down to kiss his hair, which smelled of whiskey and ashes.  
  
"Harry, I don't deserve you ..."  
  
"None of that!" Harry admonished softly. "Now, the question is this: do you come with me willingly or I am going to kidnap you? Because as it stands, I simply cannot leave you here like this." he said rather sternly, gently prying Gilderoy's hands from his face.  
  
"You would take me back?" he questioned.  
  
"I can't force you to love me again, Gilderoy, if you don't, but I also refuse to leave you here to drink yourself to death."  
  
"But, Harry, I do love you!"  
  
"Then it's settled." said Harry with a nod, pulling Gilderoy up from the chair.  
  
He was unsteady on his feet as he put his arms around Harry's shoulders. But somehow he managed to walk with Harry supporting him out of the room wherein he had spent the better part of three weeks and to the door of the manor. There Harry paused and looked at him.  
  
"I need help with him." Harry thought, looking at the blood-shot, alcohol-fogged eyes of his companion. "I think we will both need help for sometime to come." he thought, knowing that he would be getting in touch with a good mediwitch or wizard, perhaps Madam Pomfrey, and seeking out advice where ever he could find it. Harry knew he couldn't do it alone. He had learned that much, though he still wasn't certain exactly what he was going to do about Gilderoy and their situation.  
  
But this time he wanted to get it right. Harry wanted to be able to take care of him better. No quick fixes. No glasses of wine or sleeping potions. No simple solutions.  
  
He kissed Gilderoy on the cheek as he readjusted his grip on his very drunken beloved. Tears coursed anew down Gilderoy's cheeks, but he managed, just barely managed, a trembling smile.  
  
"Slowly this time. And with my eyes wide open. I will learn from my mistakes." Harry told himself firmly as he opened the door, deciding where at least a little bit of his help could come from.  
  
Turning back and glancing up the stairs, Harry yelled, "Bell! Come on! If you want to serve your master, meet us at the car!"  
  
~  
  
Three years later  
  
  
  
"And do you, Gilderoy Diggory Lockhart, take Harold James Potter to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health for so long as you both shall live?"  
  
"I do." answered the grinning blond in the cream and gold robes.  
  
"I now pronounce you bound together in a state of matrimony. You may now kiss your husband."  
  
There was quite a bit of cheering in the Great Hall of Hogwarts when Harry and Gilderoy kissed for the first time as a married couple. All of their friends and many of the professors, young and old, were gathered there to support them on that glorious day, which had been a long time in coming. Remus and Sirius, who had never formalized their own arrangement, applauded as loudly as any. They had stopped fighting Harry's decisions regarding Gilderoy years ago and were as happy as any to see that day come to pass. Ron and Hermione were on hand too, as was their two-year-old son, Arthur Harry Weasley. Bell was present as well, standing in a chair to see her masters, and she was grinning with delight.   
  
The wedding had been a long time coming, but at least they were certain that they had gotten it right at last. Gilderoy had been slow to heal and slow to recover, but Harry had been by his side every step of the way, through every nightmare, through the results of his weeks of binge drinking, through absolutely everything that had come their way. They had both learned, coped, and grown together through the trials and struggles.  
  
Tears came to Gilderoy's eyes as he thought of those years, each one more precious to him than the one before. And he hoped that the years that were left to them, that they would be just as wonderful and as just as special.  
  
Professor Harry Potter grinned and wiped the tears from his husband's cheeks.  
  
"Worth the wait, love?" he asked Gilderoy.  
  
"Worth every second, Harry." he replied as they walked through the Great Hall arm in arm to their waiting carriage, which would whisk them back to the Little Burrow and then onward to their honeymoon. And from there, to whatever happy ending awaits them and their story.  
  
  
  
The End  
  
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A/N: I can't believe how fluffy that last part was.  
  
  
anon: I misnumbered the chapters. Sorry! It will be fixed ... soon. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
shadowycat: I think Sirius, without the influence of Remus, would definitely have gone after Gilderoy. Of course, Harry would not have forgiven him (at least not for a very long time) if Sirius had actually decided to go and kill Gilderoy. I'm undecided as to whether Sirius would have done it. Maybe if Gilderoy had been near at hand (or if he had known the location of the manor). Endless possibilities. I didn't want to explicitly say what happened during the holidays at Lockhart Manor (partly because I like to control the perspective as much as possible - which cannot always be done, I admit). And I've tortured Gilderoy enough. Although it's probably fair to say that he did indeed go somewhat insane. I also wonder if three years would be long enough for Harry and Gilderoy to get it right (I'm sometimes my own worst critic; the rest of the time I'm a raving egomaniac). And I feel like I'm not making any sense. Thank you for the review!  
  
Michelle: *grins* I take it you mean the 'Almost' in the title. Your guesses/questions about the epilogue made me feel very transparent (which is a good thing, I suppose). This would be option 'c', right? More or less. Gilderoy's speech came weirdly naturally to me. I can't explain why. Well, okay, it was a nice chance to tap into my evil side. I'm glad it came off believably. I think I can safely answer the why did the 'not-so-innocent half of Gilderoy' dominated for that brief instant. The other part of his personality wasn't prepared to handle the dark side (the manipulative schemer taught by the masters). Harry, like the Sorting Hat hinted, had been gradually instilling his Gryffindor courage into Gilderoy (incidentally, what rhymes with aggrieve? *sinister chuckle*), so luckily Gilderoy wasn't entirely unarmed in the struggle (I try to be subtle because I hate to be hit over the head with things, and I'm weird). Congratulations on making the track team! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
Okay, I am the queen of indecision. I wrote two endings because I didn't know what should happen. This ending was happy (I like happy endings when I can get 'em), but it was also the second one I wrote and not quite as erm... polished and difficult to hammer out. I am posting the other one as an 'alterative ending' *snickers at own indecisiveness* in a few days (as more people are probably of a pro-happy-ending mind set too and should have ample time to read this ending and decide if they want to read the other one or not). I hope this is satisfactory. If there is a general outcry for the other ending not to be posted, I will probably listen.  
  
  



	28. Alternate Ending

Chapter Twenty-seven  
  
Epilogue  
  
  
He sat in the high-backed chair by the fire, watching the flames and drinking brandy. He seemed only to leave the chair at meal times, when he could manage to eat, and to sleep, to toss restlessly in his bed at night. The paintings, the leering smiles and staring eyes, had been covered, but he swore that he could still feel them all looking at him through the cloth shrouds in the dimly lit room. He entertained no guests. He visited no one. His manor was his prison, though the imprisonment was self-imposed.  
  
The door behind him opened with a soft sound. Tiny feet slapped against the floor as they approached.  
  
"Master is having mail this morning." said a sad and squeaking voice next to his chair.  
  
Gilderoy glanced down at faithful Bell, who was holding a newspaper in her hands. He took it from her and murmured his thanks, laying it upon his lap and returning his gaze to the fire. Bell padded from the room without another word.  
  
It was some time before he looked at the paper. He was curious. He didn't regularly receive _The Daily Prophet_, so someone must have sent it to him. There was a momentary pain as he remembered the last message, the last anything, that had been delivered to Lockhart Manor.  
  
"_Dear Gilderoy, I wanted to write to you and tell you that I'm all right. You didn't hurt me. And I still love you. And I miss you. I miss you more than anything. Can we make amends? Yours, Harry._"  
  
That had been years and years ago, and he had been too ashamed to reply. His memories were intact and complete, but the man who had quested after celebrity and undeserved fame and recognition had perished, leaving only the broken man who had loved Harry with all his imperfect heart and wounded soul. And that man could not bear what he had done, or tried to do, to his young lover.  
  
Gilderoy looked at the front page of the newspaper with only vague interest. Then he saw the picture of Harry, so much older and perhaps not quite as happy as he always remembered him, and title of the small article beneath the picture. The brandy glass, nearly empty, slipped from his fingers and shattered upon the floor.  
  
"_Legendary Harry Potter dying, Ministry sources reveal._"  
  
  
Harry, having finally managed after some years of effort to get the paper delivered to his remote cottage, sat reading the news article that morning too. He chuckled at the mention of his heroic defeat of Lord Voldemort and skimmed the few lines about his one year of Quidditch on the national team. He smiled at the mention of his memoirs, _The Schooling of a Wizard_, which Remus had informed him long ago was required reading in both introductory Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and advanced Magical History. The article mentioned in passing his ten successful years as the manager of the Chudley Cannons. Ron Weasley had been so ecstatic when he took the job. Harry had loved the team, and they attributed their five league championships to his skill and encouragement.   
  
There was not a single word about his love life in the article, and for that he was grateful. Nothing about his turbulent lover affair with Gilderoy Lockhart, noted fraud and rumored recluse. But it had happened so long ago. Why should anyone else remember it? Harry looked at the picture of them on the mantel. He had never had the heart to remove it. Remus had begged him to. He had begged Harry to get on with his life, and Harry felt that he had done that, but Remus, he knew, meant that he should find another lover, a replacement for the love lost. But Harry couldn't do it, not that he hadn't had opportunity. Arnie Blackwood, for instance, was still keen on him then and remained so for years.  
  
Now he was older and his rather colorful life was coming to a close. Everyone knew it, though Harry wasn't sure how they had found out. It didn't matter. He gave up the idea that his life could ever be private after he had published the memoirs. He sighed softly and sipped his morning tea, which had been supplemented with a potion to ease the pain. Nothing to chase away the exhaustion anymore. It was too pervasive. He had lost too much of himself in the famed and epic duel between good and evil.  
  
Sirius and Remus had visited him the day before. They were gloriously happy and hardly showing their years. Remus was deputy headmaster at Hogwarts and the longest serving Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in two hundred years while his lover served as transfigurations' professor and the head of Gryffindor House. They had certainly come a long way. And Harry was immensely proud of them. The feeling was quite mutual. And they looked at Harry as nothing less than their own son.  
  
But he could see the sadness in their eyes brought on by the knowledge that he would leave the world long before them. They were not unprepared, but it was hard on both of them, for when Harry was gone, they would be alone, save only for each other.   
  
And Harry loved them both very dearly. That was why he had sent them back to the castle the night before, knowing that the end was very near. Though Sirius was strangely silent on the matter, Remus had wanted him to go to the hospital to die in greater comfort or failing that for them to stay with him until the end, the school, their classes, everything else be damned. Harry couldn't allow that. He had spent enough of his life alone to know that when the end came, he would have to face it alone as well. So he sent them back to their beloved school with one last embrace and very few tears.  
  
Harry folded up on the newspaper and laid it aside, closing his eyes as he sat upon his worn couch and listened to the crackling blaze in the fireplace.  
  
"Soon." he thought.  
  
  
There was a soft popping sound in the kitchen. Harry raised his eyelids slowly. He was very sleepy, but the pain had receded. The swish of fabric and heavy footsteps caused him to turn his head. Had Sirius or Remus come to stay with him? His eyes widened when he saw who had come to join him.  
  
Standing in his kitchen was someone that Harry had not seen once in almost fifteen years. His blond hair was streaked with white, turning from wheat-of-the-fields gold to a paler color. His blue eyes were watery, but in their expression was uneasiness and hesitance, and an odd sort of tainted innocence. He smiled softly and wiped one eye with the back of his hand. Gilderoy Lockhart had returned.  
  
"You ... You can send me away, Harry. I know I've no right to be here, especially now. No right at all. But I just had to see you one last time." said Gilderoy, cautiously drawing nearer.  
  
"Gilderoy, you could have come back anytime you wanted. I seem to remember sending you a letter to that effect." said Harry, motioning for him to come closer.  
  
"I was ... am ashamed. I betrayed you." said Gilderoy, kneeling.  
  
Harry ran his fingers through Gilderoy's hair and chuckled sadly, "I forgave you. I still forgive you, Gilderoy."  
  
"I know, though I don't understand how ..." he said. "And now it's too late."  
  
"Just ... stay with me then. Until this is over." said Harry.  
  
"And then?"  
  
"Go out dancing for me?"  
  
"I don't think ..."  
  
"You know what I mean, Gilderoy. You don't have to give up your life ... You never did."  
  
"But without you, Harry ..."  
  
"Hush. I don't want to die knowing that you'll always be unhappy. Give me that at least, won't you?"  
  
"I will try." said Gilderoy, wiping the tears from his eyes.  
  
Harry closed his eyes and smiled softly as he touched Gilderoy's cheek.  
  
"Good." he murmured. "I was worried."  
  
"You don't have to worry about me, Harry." he said, taking his hand and kissing it.  
  
But Harry didn't answer him.  
  
~ A Year Later ~  
  
  
Three figures stood beneath a pair of umbrellas in a cemetery, staring down at bunches of flowers piled before a rather ordinary grave stone whereupon the name _Harry Potter_ was written. The rain was icy cold, but rather light, and the drab sky made the flowers appear all the more brilliant. One of the men, a blond in his late fifties, whose face was marked by much care and perhaps mild idiocy, leaned down a placed a single rose with the other flowers. The other two, arms around one another beneath their umbrella, exchanged tearful glances, even after a year.  
  
"I sent you that newspaper, you know. The closer the end got, the more Harry talked about you and how he wished you were still with him." said a dark-hared, older gentleman with a growl in his voice.  
  
"I had wondered, Sirius." said Gilderoy, wiping a few raindrops from his face.  
  
"I never even knew about the letter he wrote us until it arrived three days after the funeral." said Sirius, glancing at his gray-hared lover.  
  
"He asked us to forgive you and to still consider you a part of his family. Harry had wanted someone to see that you were taken care of after he was gone. Even after fifteen years. I had never imagined ..." said Remus, huddling closer to Sirius.  
  
"I did ... okay on my own." sniffed Gilderoy untruthfully.  
  
"That was just Harry's way. He didn't want to leave anything to chance when he was gone." said Sirius, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"And you both know that Harry would never have wanted us to mope around his grave all day. Let's go." said Remus.  
  
Gilderoy kissed his gloved finger tips and touched the stone, a tear rolling down his cheek as he nodded in agreement.  
  
"Good-bye, love." he whispered.  
  
  
  
The End  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A/N: So that's the alternate ending. It was technically written first (if anyone wants to know).  
  
  
shadowycat: I never thought of something actually happening to Gilderoy (sort of a 'may fortune favor the foolish' thing). Interesting. I considered extending the story, but I just don't have any more ideas that follow this plot line (or rather, the happy-ending plot line). I usually don't write things that are longer than 25,000 words. Short attention span I guess. This is the first time in a while that I have had indecision about an ending (well, serious indecision anyway). Thank you for always taking the time to review!  
  
catspook: I don't think there will be a sequel, but thanks for asking.  
  
  



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